


Hesitation

by apokteino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (mostly Bottom Castiel), Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Sam, Bottom Castiel, Comfort, Consent Issues, D/s elements, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Virgin Castiel, Zachariah is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apokteino/pseuds/apokteino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zachariah orders Castiel to seduce Dean in order to strengthen his allegiance to heaven. Castiel thinks it will be something to endure. Dean just thinks Castiel wants him. Neither one is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hesitation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权中译】Hesitation / 难言之隐](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562550) by [TellMeCastiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeCastiel/pseuds/TellMeCastiel)



> **AN** : This fic covers the beginning of season four through the middle of season five. You can assume, unless specifically stated otherwise, that episodes occurred as they did in canon. (Based on my admittedly somewhat faulty memory.) That said, Dean and Castiel's emotional arcs a bit different, so you might find some oddities there.  
>  **AN2** : Just to be clear, Zachariah is applying the coercion in this case, not Dean. So I hold him responsible for the content warning. :)
> 
> [**Hesitation in Chinese**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9562550) by TellMeCastiel and InnocentDays.
> 
> Feedback is loved!

"Humans," Zachariah says, "are disgusting and base creatures." 

Castiel does not agree, but does not reply. He eyes the park around them, watching human children play on swings and chase each other. They are the ultimate expression of human innocence. It's a good reminder sometimes.

"But they have certain instincts we can use, since we have to deal with the mud monkeys. Their obsession with sex, for example. If they fuck it, they have feelings for it. Dean Winchester is no exception. He wants you." Zachariah grimaces. "Have sex with him, strengthen his allegiance to heaven. Make him … happy." 

Castiel exhales, wings pulling in. Zachariah notices, but remains silent. "Of course. As you order," Castiel says. He has no desire to engage in intercourse with anyone, even Dean Winchester, but he obeys.

\---------------- 

Dean has a secret.

It wasn't until the third or fourth time he saw Castiel that he had the dream. Which kind of makes sense – Castiel made him want to piss his pants more than anything else the first time they met. It pretty much stayed that way until he woke up with his boxers wet with come instead, visions of a very naked angel in bed with him flashing through his mind. He could feel himself blushing in the dark, swallowing hard. He automatically glanced at the other bed, but Sam was gone. For once, it was a relief. 

The next time he sees Castiel, he's telling Dean they're going to slaughter an entire town. The only good news is that it kills the spontaneous erection he was trying to hide. After the whole mess goes down and Sam kills a demon with his fucking mind and gets threatened by Uriel, and Castiel sits with him a bench and admits to doubt, Dean looks at Castiel with something besides fear or arousal. Or terrified arousal. 

He puts it on the backburner. He's still got horrifying dreams about hell, Sam to worry about, the world maybe ending – he feels like he's drowning most of the time. 

But something of it still lingers. Maybe half of it is sex, and the other half a desire to be close to someone again. 

Then Dean wakes up for another sex dream, and Castiel is there, sitting on the bed and staring out the window. "Jesus!"

Castiel turns his head to look at Dean and frowns.

"Sorry," Dean says quickly, bunching up the blankets over his lower body. "Is, uh …" His gaze skitters over to where Sam isn't, then back to Castiel. "Is something up?" 

"You were dreaming," Castiel says.

Dean freezes and starts sweating at the same time. "Yeah, humans generally do that. Dream. Pretty normal."

"You were dreaming about me." The words have no tone to them.

Dean sighs, half wondering if he's going to be smote, half exhausted and hoping for it. He closes his eyes. "Yeah."

A gentle hand appears at his jaw, rough fingertips against skin. His eyes snap open, and Castiel withdraws, bringing his hand back to his lap. He tilts his head, eyes narrowed, more in thought than judgment. "Does the dream indicate a desire?" 

Swallowing, Dean gives the barest of nods. "Sorry. Can't, um, really control that part."

"What if I told you I would be amenable?" 

Dean stares at him. "What?"

Castiel stares right back. 

"What do you mean?" Dean finally presses. "To …?"

"Intercourse." 

It kind of feels like all the breath has been sucked out of his lungs by the mother of all vacuum cleaners, and then he chokes on his own spit and starts hacking. It lasts so long that Castiel begins to look a little concerned, but Dean waves him off. His traitorous dick, softened by that familiar terror, is starting to get hard again. The dream hadn't actually reached the climax portion. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just – surprised."

Castiel's expression turns determined. "You will have intercourse with me, then?"

"But – I – do you really want to?" Dean asks, still gobsmacked they're even having this conversation. 

Castiel hesitates, then nods firmly. 

Well, fuck it. He's already gone to hell once, and he might be going back; does only the things that you do while you're alive matter? He throws off his blankets and scoots closer to Castiel, who is looking at him with wide eyes. Dean thinks, Does he know how scared he looks right now? So he reaches over, hand barely touching the side of Castiel's face as he goes in for a kiss. Castiel's lips are warm and chapped, and he does this tiny, sharp inhale into Dean's mouth. Then he presses forward, mimicking Dean exactly. Dean opens up his kissing vocabulary, sucking on Castiel's bottom lip, diving into his mouth and pressing his tongue against Castiel's teeth. When Castiel copies him, he opens up, deepening the kiss into something almost, but not quite, filthy. Then he lets Castiel go.

Castiel blinks at him, blue eyes shining in the dark. His lips are wet. It's one of the hottest things Dean's ever seen.

"Sam's probably coming back soon," Dean says. 

"He's not," Castiel says with certainty.

"Yeah, he is. And, you know, probably not a good idea to catch you here. It'd be awkward."

Castiel opens his mouth as if to argue.

"I'll see you tomorrow? Can I pray to you?" 

After a second, Castiel nods slowly. He rises to his feet, still looking puzzled. Then he disappears with a flutter of air. 

Dean sinks back into bed and stares at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

\---------------- 

What exactly are the ethics of having sex with an angel? Are angels allowed to have sex? It's not like Dean's met many, but they seem pretty focused on their jobs. No fun. No sex. Plus the whole purity thing. If Dean's honest, that's the thing that bothers him the most about the idea. Like he'd be corrupting Castiel – in general, but it being with him, too. Honestly, he's still not sure the angel knows what he's asking for. That kiss was hot, no doubt about that, and Castiel seemed kind of into it, in an awkward and new-ish kind of way. He'd been pretty direct, verbally at least. Dean being left in the decision making boat about _sex_ is ironic.

Sam would find it hilarious. Or maybe not. Dean's smile disappears.

No, better not to mention it to Sam. He has no idea how much Sam tells Ruby. He's not sure he wants to know. 

He lets Sam pick dinner, and then gets a separate hotel room, saying he wants some peace and quiet. Sam lets it go far too easily, but he does let it go. 

Dean sits on the hotel bed, staring at his duffel. It's got … supplies. 

He looks away, then up, and says out loud, "Cas? You listening?" 

After a second, Castiel appears. "Hello, Dean," he says gravely, like he always does. 

Dean squints up at him. "Hey."

Castiel tilts his head. "You're not sharing a room with Sam."

Dean stands and walks up to him, close enough to touch. Castiel is about the same height as him, which isn't an entirely new experience – a few women he slept with were his height or taller. Made for some kinky positioning. His times with men were pretty scarce, a result of Dad's presence and a general dislike in the hunting community for that kind of thing. Castiel's eyes flicker to Dean's lips. 

Taking a deep breath, he kisses Castiel again. It's warm and wet like last time, with a little bit of stubble, and Castiel must have a good memory because he pulls out all the tricks of that one kiss, and within a minute Dean is aching hard. It takes a lot of effort to think and pull away, because he wants to bury himself in Castiel – in someone that hot, but also someone that seems so untouchable. He'd use the word holy if it wasn't cliché. He's got to ask this one thing, because Dean never gets what he wants, and so he's got to ask. 

"Why – why do you wanna do this?" Dean asks. "Do you still want to?"

Castiel hesitates, like last time. Dean's never seen him hesitate so much. "Yes. I … like you." He looks away. "I've always liked humanity more than my siblings. And I like you. And I am curious about the experience."

It's the 'I like you' that clinches it. A bubble of excitement rises and he pulls Castiel to him this time, and for all that the angel had been like solid rock when he'd stabbed him, Castiel goes easily. He lets Dean maneuver him into a good position to kiss. He makes out with Cas – he's going to call him that, in his head at least, he's about to fuck him – until he's throbbing. He shoves his knee between Cas's legs, and finds him half hard, his own dick rubbing against Cas's thigh. "Fuck," Dean whispers. 

"Tell me how to please you," Cas murmurs into his ear, probably not even knowing how erotic that is. 

Dean responds by tugging on Cas's clothing, shoving off the trenchcoat, then the suit. Peeling off the layers takes time, but it gives Dean the chance to see Cas breathing hard as he stares at Dean. His hands clench and unclench like he wants to do something, but he stays still. Even as Dean undresses him. Dean almost hesitates himself on Cas's boxers, then slides them down. Cas is long, thick. His own clothes are a hurried mess, thrown off. 

He directs Cas to sit on the bed, then kneels in front of him. Cas blinks at him, surprised. When Dean curls a hand around Cas's cock he lets out a shocked moan. Dean strokes him, rubbing the head with his thumb with each upstroke, until Cas is as hard as Dean is. Cas's eyes are electric blue, wide, and he's panting like he's run miles, except Dean doubts angels get tired that easily. His hands twitch like he doesn't know what to do with him, limp by his sides. There's a bit of virginal panic in there, too.

"You've never done this before?" Dean says, slowing his stroking to squeeze the tip of Cas's cock.  


Cas shakes his head jerkily. 

Dean pauses. "Ever had an orgasm?" 

"N-no."

"I'll make this feel good, then," Dean whispers, one hand against the base of his cock to keep himself from coming at the idea of taking an angel's virginity. Then takes Cas's cock in his mouth in one go. 

"Oh – _oh_ ," Cas says, like that's all he can say. He loses control for the first time and thrusts up into Dean's mouth. Dean presses him down with one hand, and weirdly, Cas obeys that single hand, stilling immediately. "Tell me –" he tries to say. "Shouldn't I be –"

Dean pulls off. "I want to suck you," he says, voice wrecked. 

Cas nods. "Whatever you want," he says. 

Dean does his best to suck Cas's brains out of his cock. In only a few minutes, he feels Cas's balls draw up and he pulls back a bit so the head is on his tongue when Cas comes. He barely moves his hips, still obeying that one hand, and warm, salty come spurts into Dean's mouth. He swallows without thinking, stroking himself through it. Castiel's expression is dazed pleasure, his body trembling slightly in the aftermath. Dean's about ready to come just from this, Cas's cock in his mouth, but when Cas moans again, not quite in pleasure this time, he lets Cas's cock fall from his mouth and gets up, pushes Cas onto his back. 

He climbs onto the bed, says, "Jerk me off?" 

Cas hesitates then reaches for Dean's cock, imitating Dean's strokes. Dean pushes into his fist, pleasure curling up low in his stomach. 

"Do you want my mouth?" Cas asks, and it's enough to trigger Dean's orgasm. It feels like all his conscious thought goes with it, leaving him sated and brainless. 

He lays next to Cas, puts his own hand over Cas's to make him stop stroking. His dick softens in Cas's hand, and he fucking loves how that feels. When he finally opens his eyes, dazed, Castiel is staring back at him. There's something analytic about it, like he's thinking about whether Dean's orgasm was satisfactory. Or his own. 

"Maybe next time," Dean finally says. "That was – that was amazing, Cas."

Cas nods firmly, once. "Good. I want to please you."

Dean laughs. "Did you enjoy that?" 

Castiel searches his eyes for a long second. "Yes."

Dean smiles and kisses Cas's hand before dropping off to sleep.

\---------------- 

Two days later, Dean gets another separate hotel room, but Castiel doesn't show. Three days after that, Dean tries again, nervousness and fear welling in his gut like something from _Alien_ , about to explode out of his chest in a bloody and terrifying mess. It's not unlike how he felt in hell, except the terrifying monster was himself. The memories are leaking back in at a higher and higher speed. Dean wants to forget. Sex seems like a good option, but he wants more than that, too. He wonders, sometimes, if Castiel knows what he did in hell. Mostly when Cas gives him that steady look, meeting his eyes. But he doesn't ask.

Castiel appears in a flutter of hotel paper. He looks the same as usual, trench coat and askew tie, not like the sex-sweaty angel Dean had seen last. "Hello, Dean."

Dean exhales.

"I was defending a seal," Cas explains almost immediately. 

"Yeah, that's okay," Dean says, shrugging uncomfortably. "Not perching. I get it." He wants to ask, Still amenable? But can't get the words out.

Cas takes two slow steps in Dean's direction. Then another, enough to get within touching distance. He reaches out, palm open, and settles his hand on Dean's cheek. His expression as he does it is curious, but Dean has no idea why. Then he drops his hand, and starts to take off his trench coat.  


Dean stands, ducks in close. Cas doesn't close his eyes as Dean leans in, but Dean does. Warm lips against his, that small inhale. A couple of minutes of sloppy kisses. Cas sucks on Dean's lower lip and Dean groans. Dean takes off Cas's clothes slowly this time, long caresses down his arms, down his flank. It feels a little silly, a little sentimental, but he doesn't stop. When Cas is naked, Dean goes to strip himself, but Cas takes over instead, undressing Dean in that same slow way. Long, slow touches. Dean shivers. Fuck, but he's a quick learner.

"What do you want?" Cas asks, in that same low tone he always uses. He's kneeling in front of Dean, Dean's boxer-briefs around his ankles. His mouth is less than a foot from Dean's cock.

Dean thinks he's going to repress an erection whenever Castiel talks to him next outside of the bedroom. "What you want," he says. He doesn't want to push Castiel too far. He's already had one miracle. And getting out of hell. So, two.

"I don't know what I want," Cas says, still looking up at Dean. He looks calm. "Tell me what to do."  


Dean's dick twitches. "Suck me? Can you do that?" 

Cas's gaze lowers. Those cock-sucking lips close around his dick, and after a second Cas takes in more, nearly deep-throating him. It's a near perfect copy of the blowjob Dean gave him, but when Dean thrusts forward with a loud moan, Cas doesn't stop him with a hand. Instead, he just takes it, not gagging. The warm, tight heat around his cock – particularly the head, where it's nestled in Cas's throat – is mind-blowing. Dean gets a little light-headed, moaning and thrusting lightly. He could come like this, but he doesn't want to come yet. He grabs Cas's hair and eases him off.

Cas's spit-slick lips form a frown. "Did I displease –"

"No, no. I just … want to make this last." He takes one of Cas's hands, lifts him up. "On the bed?"  


Castiel lays down on his back. His cock is thickened but not erect, and slaps against his thigh. Dean guesses it takes a little more physical stimulation than it does for Dean, though normally even Dean needs a little friction to get this hard. Dean crawls over him, presses a thigh into Cas's cock. Cas's hips do a little half-thrust in reaction, then he stops. 

"Keep going," Dean says. Cas thrusts, hesitantly, mouth open as he pants, the tip of his dick leaving wet trails on Dean's skin. He's got that wide-eyed look again, like everything he's feeling is both amazing and astonishing. "Yeah, like that," Dean growls. "Fuck. Do you like that?" 

Cas nods, then moans again, breath hitching when Dean rolls against him. 

"Did you like my mouth on you?" Dean asks. 

"Y-yes," Cas says. He brings his hands up, lays them on Dean's hips.

Dean leans in, kisses him, then whispers, "I like you touching me." Then he moves down, kissing Castiel's chest. Pokes a nipple with his tongue, which elicits a brief squirm. Licks around his bellybutton, the smooth muscles under his hands jumping. Cas's cock is hard now, pressed against Dean's chin. A simple dip of his head lets him take the head into his mouth, sucking lightly. With his hands, he nudges the insides of Cas's thighs. After a second Cas seems to understand what Dean wants and spreads his legs, one knee up. Dean takes his mouth off of Cas's cock long enough to ask, "Can I touch you there?"

"Anywhere," Castiel replies immediately. Then blushes, looking both puzzled and embarrassed by that single word. He breaks eye contact, looking at the ceiling, but his legs stay spread. 

"Sure?" Dean asks, the tip of Castiel's cock lying against his lips.

He nods. "Yes."

Dean sucks on his finger – he'll get a lube in a second, if Cas seems to like it – and circles Castiel's hole with it. Cas sighs shakily and tilts his head back, throat exposed as he swallows. He presses just the tip in, sucking the head of Cas's cock again, dipping his tongue into the slit there. Cas thrusts just barely, but it's enough to push Dean's finger deeper in. He's hot and tight, and Dean can't imagine what his cock will feel like in there. 

Dean takes out his finger, lets Cas's cock pop out of his mouth, and gets off the bed. 

"What are you doing?" Cas asks, looking alarmed. 

"Lube," Dean says, "one sec." The bottle is at the top of his duffel, and then he's back on the bed with it in hand. "We go as far as is comfortable, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

"You can't hurt me, Dean," Cas says, gravelly voice almost amused.

"Tell me anyway," Dean says. He kisses the tip of Cas's penis as he opens the cap, spills it onto his fingers. "Anything you don't like. I want you to come your brains out."

Cas blinks a few times. "You want me to focus on my own pleasure?"

"Your pleasure is my pleasure," Dean says, pressing a finger to Cas's hole again, this time heavily lubed. "Do you want me to stop?" 

His breath hitches. "Don't stop."

Dean pushes his finger in. Works it in and out, alters the angle to stretch Cas a little. Focusing on the rim makes Cas squirm again, which is hot because Cas doesn't move much otherwise. He's so controlled, controlling his reactions, responding to Dean instead of his own body. He pants when Dean adds another finger, and for a second Dean thinks it's pain, but then Cas's eyes roll up and does that low moan that Dean is beginning to recognize as pleasure he can't quite control. "Show me," Dean whispers into the bend of Cas's knee. "I want to see you react."

Cas shoves down on Dean's two fingers, pushing them farther up his ass. 

"Fuck," Dean says, twisting his fingers. "You – oh fuck." 

Red suffuses Cas's face. "Do you – do you like that?"

"I fucking love it," Dean says, and presses a third finger against Cas's rim. Cas's powerful leg muscles flex as he pushes down farther, forcing up that additional finger. Reckless with abandon, Dean starts fucking with him those three fingers, as far as he can go. He rubs the inside of Cas's ass, searching for the prostate, watching Cas's eyes, waiting.

Cas shouts when Dean hits it. Dean rubs it two more times just to watch Cas shudder.

"Can I fuck you?" Dean asks, still fucking Cas's ass with his fingers. 

" _Yes_ ," Cas says.

Dean pushes up Cas's legs, propping one ankle on his shoulder. He strokes himself with his lubed hand while he inches forward into position, until his cock is pressed against Castiel's ass. Against an angel's ass – but not any angel. This one saved him. This one likes him, God knows why. Dean kisses that ankle, rubs the head of his dick in small circles around Castiel's hole. Cas twitches, but waits, eyes dark.

And Dean presses in. 

The tightness around his fingers was nothing compared to this. The entrance is clamped down tight and Dean is going slow, but Cas's tiny hip movements tell Dean that he wants more. So Dean shoves in the last two inches or so, his balls slapping against Cas's ass. Castiel gasps out loud. Dean pulls out a few inches, just to watch the rim drag on him, then pushes back in. Watching his hard dick stuffing that tight hole. Then he looks up at Cas's face.

Shock flickers across his face, along with pleasure and a helpless confusion. 

"Cas, are you okay?" Dean asks, stopping. He strokes Cas's thigh. It'd probably take John walking in to make him lose this erection, but he stills his hips completely. Just hands on skin.

Cas opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he nods, taking a deep breath. "Doesn't feel like I thought it would."

"What did you think?" Dean asks. 

Cas rolls his hips. "Keep going."

Dean gives him a little thrust, enough to make Cas shake. "Tell me," Dean insists. 

Cas gives him a fuzzy focus. "I've watched humans fornicate countless times over the millennia," and the words sound so strange coming from a man with a cock in his ass right this moment, "and never understood the drive for the act. But it feels – it feels good."

Dean relaxes a little, gives Cas a harder thrust, balls slapping against Cas. "That's what I want, Cas," Dean says, "I want you to feel good."

"Whatever you want," Cas says. "Harder," Cas asks. There's something beautifully submissive in how he says it. 

Dean obeys, and this time he fucks with all the strength and passion he has behind it. He drives into Cas until Cas shakes with it, little pulses of pre-cum dripping off his untouched cock. Dean has to press Cas's hand to his own cock, tell him to stroke it. Cas seems to lose control over his limbs at that point, Dean having to hold his legs open to fuck into him properly, his fist over his dick loose as he strokes wildly and without rhythm. It's nothing like porn, too desperate and uncoordinated. 

Dean feels Cas clamp down on his cock first, then watches as the orgasm breaks over Cas's face and body. Jets of come streak his chest as his back arches, neck flung back. The lights all flicker. He cries out as it happens, inarticulate and Dean wonders if there's some other languages in there. Then he's completely limp, cock softening and limbs relaxed, even his ass opening up for Dean. Dean goes for his own orgasm, fucking hard, loving that Cas is just letting him take it. Dean lets go and comes, the pleasure making him uncontrolled. He can't prevent himself from falling forward, not entirely catching himself on his palms. He's bending Cas nearly in half, but the angel just sighs as Dean lies his head on Cas's chest, languid tongue catching a stray drop of come.

His mind is buzzing, but the good, wordless kind and he drifts in it, happy, only focusing on Castiel's even breathing. After a few minutes Dean's cock softens too much to stay inside Cas, and he slips out. Cas's breathing stops for a second before continuing, so Dean heaves himself up to look at Castiel's face. 

It's blank. 

Chilled, Dean gets up and finds a washcloth, wetting it a little bit and then returning to Castiel. He lifts one of his legs to wipe and clean at the come still slipping out, then cleans Castiel's chest. "Penny for your thoughts?" 

"Currency is not required." But then he fails to speak.

Dean sits up near Castiel's head, uncomfortable. But he pushes a hand through Castiel's constant bed-hair – _real_ bed-hair now he supposes – with his nails stroking lines through it. That seems to break through whatever thought process is going on in Castiel's mind, because he blinks and looks at Dean. 

"Is something wrong?" Castiel asks.

"That's what I was about to ask you."

"I'm fine. Your concern is unwarranted."

Dean leans in. "Is it?" 

"Have I done –"

Dean cuts him off. "Stop." 

Castiel immediately falls silent. 

Which is strange. Castiel doesn't strike him as naturally submissive. He's not that way in every place outside this room, all flickering lights and shadows of wings and threatening to throw Dean back in hell if Dean doesn't shape the fuck up. (Not those words, but the same meaning.) It's strange how he acts that way in bed. Though Dean supposes some feisty women over the years had proved that kind of assumption wrong. 

He wonders what's going on in Castiel's head. 'Amenable' is one thing. Hours of fantastic sex is another. But it's not like Castiel couldn't throw him off without breaking a sweat. And yet, there's something thinky going on in there, and Dean wants to tease it out. Maybe pull it out.

Hesitating, Dean mirrors Castiel's first action, cupping Castiel's jaw gently. "We don't have to do this again." 

Blue eyes meet his. "I want to." He takes a breath like there's hundreds of words waiting to spill out, eyes full of thoughts Dean can't quite make out. But then he just exhales. 

So Dean does the only thing he can think to do. He fluffs up the rather shitty motel pillows, gets a good lump of them behind his head, then lays down and pulls Castiel closer. Cas comes, letting Dean arrange his limbs into something approaching cuddling. But Dean knows how much this means to a human, knows how much it's affected him in the past. He places Cas's head on his shoulder, fingers at Cas's nape before stroking down his back. "Good?" Dean asks.

In response, Cas's arms tighten around him.

\---------------- 

They meet and separate over the next few weeks, until things start to come to a head again. Uriel's a dick where Castiel is just mission-focused. Something like fear and doubt is beginning to grow in Dean's head and heart where it comes to angels. He wants to believe. He does believe, at least in Castiel. And when Ruby comes along with a story about a woman demons are trying to kill, he rolls his eyes but rolls along with it anyway.

Castiel won't meet Dean's eyes when he comes with Uriel, saying Anna has to die. When he disappears in a flash of light, Anna banishing a _fucking ange_ l Dean knows he has to follow the rabbit down the rabbit hole. Anna remembers. Angels fall. When angels fall, they become human – and apparently that’s not so liked by the big guy upstairs. Castiel's not at _all_ submissive when he and Uriel threaten to kill Sam if they don't hand over Anna. 

And Dean's a mess. Admitted fucking everything to Sam, who just stared at him with sad eyes, like he can't imagine Dean dripping in the blood and flesh of tortured souls. Dean wants to die, but not like the last time he died – he wants to die and just cease to exist. 

He's staring at the mottled and stained motel ceiling, hoping to God he doesn't fall asleep tonight because he knows he'll wake up screaming. He counts his breaths to Sam's, slow and deep. 

And nearly bolts out of bed when blue eyes flash before him and a hand lands over his mouth. He sees almost immediately that's its Castiel, and that's not entirely comforting, but he stills anyway. 

"We need to talk," Castiel whispers. "I'm going to take you outside."

Well, peachy to be warned for once. Dean's still mostly dressed, so only his feet begin to freeze when he appears next to the Impala. "What?" Dean snaps. 

Castiel stares at him, blue eyes smoldering. "Your rebellion –"

"You gonna throw me back in, Cas? Huh? Well then just fucking do it!" He heaves a huge breath. "It's not like I don't deserve to be down there, right? Did you see me, when you pulled me out? What I was doing?"

"I –"

"Sam knows. He fucking knows what I am now, and he can give me all the puppy-eyes he wants but he _knows_ –"

"Dean," Castiel growls, and the words disappear in Dean's throat. 

It takes him a second to get it, but Castiel has literally ripped away Dean's ability to speak.

Castiel doesn't do anything as cliché as grab Dean's shirt as he closes in. He doesn't touch him at all. Instead, he gets real nice and close, so Dean can feel the heat of his breath, feel the crackle of almost-lightning, and see very clearly Castiel's nearly all pupil eyes. "I know _everything_ you did in hell. I saw every mark of every act on your tattered soul. I had to drag you kicking and screaming away from your rack, and at the time I thought you wanted to stay and keep torturing those souls. Until I saw you in that barn, and saw the depth of your self-hatred."

Dean wants to speak, but he can't. 

Castiel's voice softens. "But even then, your soul was beautiful to me." He swallows, close enough Dean can hear how roughly he does it. "Stop _fighting_ me, Dean."

"I'm –" sorry, Dean wants to say. But this time Castiel isn't the one stopping him. Instead Dean shifts his eyes, rubs his face. 

"If you would just do as I ask –" Castiel begins.

"You want me to be a little obedient robot? Not think? Because the way I see it, you angels aren't all you're cracked up to be. And I don't know what the fuck they mean yet, but I see all those little cracks in what you've been telling us. What Anna said?" Dean snorts.

"Did you fornicate with her?" Castiel growls. 

Dean gapes. "What?"

"Did you fuck her?" Castiel growls again, and the word sounds even filthier coming from his mouth.

Dean almost snaps something about him being jealous, but closes off the impulse in time. "No. I didn't fuck her. But she offered. Last night on earth kind of thing."

Castiel looks away, jaw clenching, like that answer doesn't exactly please him. 

"Would you care if I did?" Dean asks, genuinely curious.

But Castiel seems back on track now. "I want you to follow orders!"

"Is that what you do?" Dean snarls.

Castiel flinches like Dean had slapped him. Or something stronger than Dean, anyway. Dean replays it in his mind, because it's something he's never seen Cas do. That _hurt_ , and Dean has no idea why. Castiel says, like the words are painful, "My superiors are displeased with me."

Dean waits a beat, then asks, "For?" 

"You being difficult."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, tell them to kiss my ass. Or kick it. You've got nothing to do with it." He turns away, feet freezing now, to walk back to the motel.

Castiel grabs him by the arm and throws him against the car hard enough Dean's back flashes with pain. He grunts, a pained gasp escaping him. Castiel shoves a knee between Dean's legs, riding it up until he's pressed against Dean's rapidly-becoming-interested dick. As if in apology, Castiel caresses Dean's face – shockingly affectionate – and the pain in his back disappears. Which leaves the rest of him easy to get aroused. Then Cas is kissing him, rough but soft enough for it to be pleasurable, until Dean is gasping into Cas's mouth. 

They don't have sex. Cas kisses him quietly until Dean is calm, and then presses two fingers to Dean's forehead, putting him literally to bed. 

Dean doesn't dream.

\---------------- 

It's like an episode on repeat, the bare facts an endless loop in Dean's head. 

Alastair breaks Dean, Dean tries to break Alastair, Alastair breaks Dean again. Dean's physical injuries are healed, but the rest is fucked to hell. Dean broke the first seal by being weak. Sam killed Alastair, and some part of Dean is grateful, and another part is terrified. Uriel was the angel killing traitor. Castiel says Dean has to finish what he started. 

Something deep within Dean is splitting apart. His mind is fracturing. He can't even hold together a line of thought. Sam's been doing his best to take care of him, and they're not hunting, but Dean staring at a wall for hours on end seems to unnerve Sam. Finally, Sam says he's going to leave for a few hours, but that he'll be back. Dean doesn't bother to acknowledge him, though he knows he should. 

He doesn't know exactly when he realizes Castiel is there. "Cas, I can't do it."

There's a rustle. Then Castiel is sitting next to him on the bed. 

"You made me – you made me –" Dean can't finish. 

"I'm sorry," Castiel says.

Dean looks at him, a dark anger working its way up from his gut into his heart. "Are you?" Then, careless of the fact that Sam is eventually coming back, "I want to fuck you."

Sounding a bit wary, Castiel says, "Very well."

Dean pushes him onto his back with a vicious kiss. He strips Cas efficiently and quickly, then himself, before grabbing the lube. Cas is staring at him with dark, hooded eyes from where he lies on the bed, arms relaxed at his sides, legs slightly spread and knees up. Dean doesn't bother with foreplay; he's already hard. Cas is only a little thickened, not even half hard, but passively lets Dean maneuver him into a more fuckable position. Dean gets his fingers lubed, presses them against Cas's entrance.

And stops. 

Cas is breathing evenly, looking at the ceiling instead of Dean. "I'm going to hurt you," Dean says, more a realization than a statement of intent. 

Cas doesn't look at him when he says, "You can't hurt me."

"Can't I?" Dean asks.

After a second, Cas looks at him, a slight puzzled frown appearing. "I can bleed, if you like."

And that is so not what Dean was asking. He stares at Cas, letting his shock show on his face. 

Looking uncertain, Cas adds, "As much as you want."

Just like that, Dean's erection wilts. He resists the urge to flee from the room, his chest tightening like a vise. He's still between Cas's legs, hand wet, so he forces his muscles to move, gently putting Cas's legs down, wiping his hand on the sheets, and standing up. He pulls on his pants without bothering with his boxers, looking at the motel door.

"What's wrong?" Cas asks.

Dean tries to work some moisture into his mouth, his throat. So that he can speak. He turns around to face Cas. "I want you, not a doll," Dean says. "And I don't … I don't want to hurt you." And then, because it seems like he has to be blunt, "If you don't want me," he swallows, looks down, "don't come here."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Cas stand up with his usual mixture of grace and alien movement. He stops before Dean, all bare skin, but Dean won't lift his gaze above Cas's hips. "I don't understand you," Cas says finally. "But I do want you. Like before?" 

What does that mean? A position? Dean looks at Cas, questioning.

Cas seems to get his confusion, says, "You gave me pleasure."

"I'm not sure I get what you're asking," Dean says slowly. "Specifically."

Cas takes a step closer. "You cared what I felt. That's all I want."

Those words rattle around in Dean's chest. It's a remarkably human thing to say, indicating a human desire for comfort and security. Dean doesn't really know what Cas feels about most things, including sex. He indicates a desire for it most of the time and is fairly easy to turn on, but does he feel anything more? Dean _thinks_ Castiel has a fondness for him, some kind of warmer emotion. He doesn't think it's all physical, and this kind of confirms that. But he's never been able to pin Cas into a conversation about this – relationship. "Cas, I … I know you don't exactly need my protection, but I care about you, okay?" 

Cas stops breathing. Then he nods gently. "I have waited a long time to hear you say that," he says with a quiet irony Dean doesn't understand. "I care for you as well."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that, tears pricking his eyes, but he knows for sure now that Sam is coming back soon. He picks up his cell, sends off a quick text which has a little more truth than he'd prefer: _Got some tail, can you get another room?_

Sam texts back almost immediately, probably relieved Dean's no longer staring at a wall. _Have fun._

After flipping the phone at the other bed, he looks at Cas, who is still looking back at him steadily. Naked. Dean almost suggests having sex on Sam's bed, just to annoy his little brother, but the moment isn't right and even he knows that. Instead, he comes up to Cas and Cas kisses him, slow and gentle. Dean watches Cas's blue eyes fall shut this time before giving himself over to it.

This time, Cas pushes Dean onto the bed, fingers working at Dean's jeans. It seems to take him a moment to figure out the zipper and button, but once he does he slides them off easily. He straddles Dean's hips and takes one of Dean's hands, pressing it to his hard cock. Somewhat to Dean's surprise, he's almost fully hard already. Dean strokes firmly, watching Cas's eyes glaze over as he looks track of what he's doing, pushing into Dean's tight fist. 

Seeming to regain a bit of control, he takes Dean's cock in hand, starting at the base and then stroking upwards, firm on the head like Dean does to him. It makes Dean remember that he's the only sexual experience Cas has, that everything Cas does he does because Dean taught him to. Dean goes from being half-there to fully erect, and Cas stares at his cock the entire time, like he's memorizing the look and feel of getting Dean aroused.

Then he blinks lazily, asks, "Do you want to fuck me?" 

Dean swallows. "Yeah. Lube, there's lube in my duffel." Cas stares at the duffel, then leaves Dean for a second to go get it. Dean moves to get up, but Cas pushes him back down – the first independent, non-imitation act Dean's seen him do. It makes him pant, ask, "You want something else?"

"I've seen the one being penetrated on top," Cas says. 

Dean's cock jerks. "You want to ride me?"

Cas nods. 

Dean maneuvers so he can take the lube from him and still reach, then gets his fingers slick and presses up against Cas's hole. He spreads the lube there, and Cas gasps a little, face flushed. Dean presses in one finger, smooth and all the way, and Cas groans. Quickly enough, he places another finger at Cas's rim, waiting to see if he'll push down like he usually does.

Instead Cas pushes Dean's hands away, grabs Dean's cock, and without waiting for any more lube – Dean goes, "Hey!" – he sinks down all the way, his ass pressed against Dean's hips. 

Then he rises up, his rim catching on Dean's cock a little, and slams down. His thighs are flexing under Dean's hands, but there's something more there too, like Cas is using his angelic strength, something alien under his skin giving him more power, more energy. He fucks himself on Dean's dick with more energy than any lover Dean's ever had – including the female wrestler – moaning his pleasure all the way. He's taking it from Dean, blue eyes wild. 

The bed is squeaking, banging against the wall. Dean can feel himself getting close to coming, and overcomes his own mind-fucking pleasure and tries to grab Cas's cock. But Cas knocks his hand away, precome dribbling from the tip. "Like this," Cas demands. 

"Oh fuck," Dean says. "I can't believe how hot you are."

Cas bends his back so he can kiss Dean, shockingly flexible. Dean comes with Cas's tongue in his mouth, spurt after spurt. He stays hard for a while, Cas still fucking himself on him, but he starts to soften eventually. He can begin to feel his own come slipping out of Cas's rim when Cas finally clamps down and reaches his own orgasm.

Semen spills on Dean's chest, but unlike Dean Cas remains upright, settled on Dean's hips. Making sure Cas is watching, Dean runs a finger through it and sucks it off his finger. 

Cas's breath catches, and Dean's cock slips out. Cas kisses him again, blue eyes wide open, and Dean could swear that he sees lightning dance there.

\---------------- 

He looks into Jimmy's eyes, and they're the same blue all right. But they're just eyes.

\---------------- 

Dean doesn't expect to see Castiel after that speech about not serving mankind and definitely not Dean. Not unless Castiel is giving orders he expects to be obeyed. The kind where all parties involved have on all their clothes, to be specific. Not that Dean's focus is there – Sam's locked in Bobby's panic room, going nuts with withdrawal. From fucking demon blood. It makes Dean kind of crazy just thinking about it, the spectacular failure of an older brother he is for letting it get this far.

So when Dean's standing in the junkyard, trying to get drunk enough to block out Sam's screams, but not drunk enough he couldn't help if necessary, he damn near jumps out of his skin when Castiel pops into existence three feet away.

Dean stares at him for a second. 

Then Castiel kisses him. It's open-mouthed and filthy, more like Castiel is trying to fuck him with his tongue than the gentle, explorative kisses he'd given Dean before, but when Dean pushes him off, Castiel goes immediately.

"Thought you didn't serve me," Dean says, his hand on Castiel's chest.

"I don't," Castiel says coldly. "Do you want sex or not?" 

Dean swallows. "Get out."

Half a second later, Castiel is gone.

\---------------- 

Shit goes down.

The Castiel Dean has come to know comes back, long enough to free Dean and not soon enough to stop Sam. 

Lucifer's loose. 

Dean is Michael's angel condom.

Sam left, and Dean actually agreed to it.

Castiel is searching for a God that either doesn't exist or doesn't care, and other than to yell at Dean hasn't looked him in the eyes.

Dean wonders if this is an elaborate version of hell.

\---------------- 

Castiel calls him. "Where are you?"

Dean sighs. "In a run down motel in the middle of nowhere."

"That is not sufficiently descriptive. I need an address. Or at least a town." He sounds annoyed.

"Is this important?" Dean asks. He's got a bottle of tequila that needs drinking. His hands are all scraped up from a hunt, because he's been doing nothing else since Sam left. Hunting. Drinking when it doesn't interfere with the hunt. More hunting.

Castiel hesitates. "Please."

Dean sits up and gives him the address. Castiel appears in the room a second later, cell phone still in hand. He looks everywhere in the room except at Dean, like the western motif is actually interesting. It gives Dean time to think about what Castiel said last time, about losing everything for nothing, and the little pit of anger at Castiel for taking his sweet time in getting on the right side fades away. "Dude, you okay?"

As if that's a trigger, Castiel starts to strip. Trenchcoat first, then the suit, and finally his plain boxers. His dick is hard. He kneels in front of Dean, completely naked while Dean is still dressed, down to his boots. 

Cas looks Dean in the eye when he places a hand on Dean's zipper and pulls it down. 

"Fuck," Dean says on an exhale. He lifts his hips and Cas pulls down his jeans and underwear in one go, then stops to frown at his boots. Dean laughs, and Cas gives him a slight smile while he starts unlacing one of Dean's boots. Dean gets the other, and in a minute he's naked from the waist down.

Cas sucks in the head of Dean's cock, then slides his head down until Dean can feel the back of his throat. He moans as he does it, long eyelashes against his cheeks when his eyes close. It's not long before Dean feels like he's going to explode, because watching Cas go down on him continues to be unbelievably erotic. 

So he pulls Cas off, kissing away Cas's automatic, "Did I –" Pushes Cas to the bed and onto his back.

"You're perfect," Dean says. "I fucking love you." He blinks. "I love fucking you." That's what he meant to say. Oh God, what did he say? 

Cas squints, looking confused.

Dean goes down on him rather than try to explain, trying to suck Cas's brains out of his cock so he won't think about what Dean said. Can't do that if he's brainless. Cas is making all kinds of interesting noises, grunts and moans and one little squeak when Dean presses a spit-slick finger into his ass, so it must be working. He gives Cas a particularly hard suck with a finger-fucking to get him speechless while he grabs the lube, but when he comes back Cas is looking at him with more thinking going on than Dean wants.

But all Cas says is, "Do I please you?" 

Dean freezes for a second, then kneels between Cas's legs. He places a hand on Cas's thigh. "'Course you do." 

That seems to be the right thing to say, because Cas relaxes. Dean pushes in two fingers, asks, "Do I please you?" 

Unexpectedly, Cas smiles. "More than you should." 

A little confusing, but okay. Cas looks happy enough. And look, he's pulling up his legs, exposing himself. Dean gets on the bed, swallowing past a dry mouth. It's more than enticing, balls hanging beneath a hard cock, asshole right there and waiting. 

Two fingers and Cas trembles. Three, and Cas growls, "Hurry up!"

Dean laughs and presses in with one thrust. He sets a brutal pace, all aches from the bruises from the last few hunts disappearing as pleasure curls from low in his stomach into the rest of his body. Cas wraps his legs around Dean's waist, pulling him in every time. He stares at Dean desperately, so Dean takes his cock in hand and strokes, which forces him to slow down his thrusts because he's holding himself up with only one hand. Cas's head rolls back and he comes, and Dean follows him down. 

After, Cas curls up on the bed and asks, "Is this okay? Can I stay?" 

"Yeah, of course," Dean mumbles into his pillow, and falls asleep.

\---------------- 

When Castiel says there's no one else to help him trap Raphael, Dean finally fucking gets it. 

He doesn't say anything until they leave Raphael in the circle of holy fire, Dean feeling a surge of pride at the way Castiel told him off. He feels the words ready to trip off his tongue as he takes Castiel back to his motel, but keeps his mouth shut. When Dean sits on the bed, Cas kisses him then goes to kneel, one hand cupping Dean through his jeans. 

"Wait," Dean says, and Cas stills, blue eyes glancing up, and there's that flicker of fear and uncertainty Dean was looking for. "I think we need to talk. Um, sit up here?" 

Cas sits. Obediently. 

"Uh. I need to make a couple of things clear. You don't need to _please_ me, Cas. I want you around. I want you, erm." The words are coming out significantly less easily than in his head. 

Cas is staring at him.

Dean rushes through the rest, staring at a stain on the wall. "You don't need to sleep with to keep me happy so I'll keep you around and help you and be your friend. I know you don't have anything else, and that's my fault. And I'm sorry for it. But you're fucking family now, Cas. You don't get kicked out. Whatever you choose. Even if this ends." He takes a deep breath. "You don't need to fuck me to keep me."

Silence. 

Then a little choked noise, so Dean looks over. And Cas – Cas is _crying_. There are tear tracks down his face, tears dripping down his chin. His eyes are glassy, staring at the far wall, and his hands are curled up in his lap, palms up. And there's no crying in the Winchester family, but when that rule inevitably gets broken, you fix the problem. 

Dean grabs his shoulders and pulls Cas in, pulls him into a hug. Cas does this weird freeze, pull away and then jam closer move that nearly knocks Dean over, but once Dean gets both arms around him and gets Cas's head on his shoulder, Cas goes limp and begins to sob. 

Huge sobs, ones that wrack his entire body. Dean can feel Cas's wet tears on his neck, the shivers that rock his body in between the huge, heaving breaths. Dean is shocked at Cas's reaction, wonders what else Cas is hiding behind all that stoic 'I am an angel' façade. But Cas simply weeps like his heart is breaking, no words to go along with it. All Dean can do is hang on and wait it out, aching. 

Cas stills, eventually. His warm breaths against Dean's neck become deep and even, almost like he's asleep, but Dean has yet to actually see him do that, and he's holding onto Dean more than slumped against him.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Deans asks.

Voice hoarse, Cas says, "No."

Dean wants to argue, decides not to. Cas is clearly exhausted, ability to sleep or not. And Dean wants to curl around him, sleep in the same bed, offer comfort. Dean hasn't loved many, but he's always loved deeply. And maybe, just maybe, this little kernel of warmth in his chest is that. It's not the same love he has for Sam – that he still has for Sam – and he supposes Cassie come closest. There was a bit of truth in both 'I fucking love you' and 'I love fucking you.' Maybe more than a bit in the last. 

One hand still on Cas's back, Dean presses the other to Cas's cheekbone. "Someday, you'll tell me. If I have to trap you in a ring of holy fire to do it."

Cas blinks, then seems to get the teasing tone. Smiles. It fades a bit to be replaced by sadness. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, shut it." Dean grins back, has no idea why Cas even apologized, so this is what he does. "You can spend the night if you want." He pauses. "Dressed. I dunno if you can sleep, but no staring at me all night, 'kay?"

"I'd like that," Cas says quietly. "Thank you, Dean."

Resisting the urge to snark, Dean replies, "Always."

\---------------- 

Cas seems to return to the one Dean was coming to know before Cas get pulled back up to heaven.

("I am approximately the same age as what you would colloquially call dirt, since the physical processes that made dirt came into place when the earth coalesced, which I was there to witness. Of course, the specific dirt you see around you was not necessarily in existence then as natural processes have created rock and then worn it away or shattered into pieces which then eventually became – why are you laughing, Dean?" Dean fucking loves Cas's awkwardness sometimes.)

A lot of that dark tenseness has gone, replaced with an ease around Dean that gives Dean a kind of happiness back. Some kind of lightness. Castiel the angel, saving Dean again. Caring about Cas lets him focus on something besides driving himself nuts thinking about Sam, too. And not thinking about Sam. Pulls him out of that pit, though nothing will ever make Dean stop worrying. 

Dean's in Washington, in a dingy motel with too much mold in the corners for Dean's state of mind, but the sheets are fresh and the towels white. The hunt went well, a simple salt and burn that is a hunter's bread and butter. 

His cell rings. Dean picks it up; it's Cas's number. "Hey." 

"Where are you?" 

Dean gives the address and room number. A second later, Cas appears. There's sand in his hair and on his shoulders, the really dry kind that sand dunes are made of. "Sahara?" Dean asks.

Cas looks taken aback. "How could you tell?" 

Brushing the sand off of Cas's shoulders, Dean says, "I'm smart like that." 

Cas looks unreasonably fond. "You are." And leans in for a kiss, which Dean readily grants. But then Cas deepens the kiss, presses his front against Dean's body, and places his hands on Dean's hips. Dean thrusts his hardening cock into Cas's belly, testing. They haven't done this since Cas's breakdown. 

"You, um. You ready?" Dean asks.

Cas nods into his shoulder, then murmurs into his ear nice and low, "Can I penetrate you?" He continues hastily, "I know for humans it has significance, a meaning of submission, the feminine partner, but –"

"Hey, hey," Dean interrupts, pulling back to look at Cas's face. He looks uncertain, a little nervous. "Yeah, we can do that. I like doing you, you know? I love topping. But I like being the bottom, too. Because I like how it feels," he adds, just to prove a point. 

Cas nods his understanding and licks his lips.

The air is cool on Dean's skin as he begins to strip, and little goosebumps rise on his body. He picks up the lube on the way back to the bed, flops down and spreads his legs, pulling up his knees. He hands the tube to Cas. "Get me good and stretched, okay? This magnificent ass is pretty tight."

Cas only raises an eyebrow. He gets a good bit of the lube on his fingers, then presses one into Dean, kissing his knee at the same time. He's surprisingly gentle about it, just the tip at first, stretching, then a little bit more in, stretching. Cas has a little frown of concentration, focusing intently on Dean's ass, but not exactly in a sexy way.

"I won't break, though," Dean says.

"I can't heal you if I hurt you, Dean."

With a sigh, Dean takes the lube from Cas and sticks two fingers in his ass, pushing and stretching until he thinks he's ready. Cas's breathing picks up while he watches, and he strokes himself in time to Dean's finger fucking. With a smirk, Dean turns over, so he's on his knees. Looks over his shoulder.

Cas's lips are parted, eyes wide.

"It's easier this way, with me on my knees," Dean explains, like that's the reason for Cas's hesitation. "Now, come on. Fuck me."

A palm settles on the small of Dean's back, the other at his hip, and then Cas is pressing in. He's big, probably a little bigger than Dean, and it's nothing like Dean's fingers. The stretch burns for a minute, but then spreads into pleasure. Cas goes slow, making Dean feel every inch until Cas's balls are pressed against Dean's ass. Dean tightens up on purpose, and he smiles to the pillow when Cas moans. 

Cas pulls out, then does another slow thrust in. And that's the pace he sets, enough to make Dean make all kinds of noises, but definitely not enough to make him come. "Harder," he grunts. 

Cas kisses between Dean's shoulder blades, then whispers in a halting tone, "You feel amazing." Cas practically never compliments Dean during sex, like he doesn't know how. He probably doesn't.

"So do you, now _harder_ ," Dean demands.

And Cas begins to fuck him. Hard, quick thrusts, and while he can't heal his angelic strength and stamina is still there, barely held back from a point of being painful. After maybe a dozen thrusts he hits Dean's prostrate, and judging from how he hits that spot every single time after that, he noticed Dean's strong reaction. He even strokes Dean's rim, the place where Cas's cock is stretching him wide, breath hitching when he does so. Dean wonders, after that submission/feminine role stuff, if he's shocked that Dean is letting him fuck him like this.

But come on. Dean knew it would be hot, and he wasn't wrong.

Dean can't even quite manage to get a hand on his own cock, has to keep both of his arms in front of him so he can take Cas's fucking. The stretch and jolts of pleasure are getting him close, and he starts gasping in huge breaths of air. "Fucking fuck –" Dean shouts, cock barely brushing the sheet. It's not quite the stimulation he needs.

When Cas reaches around and touches Dean's cock, he comes, electricity working its way up his spine. He barely feels Cas finish a minute after, though when Cas slips out the slide of come makes his skin itch.

The bed creaks as Cas settles next to him. Dean lifts his face from the pillow to look, sees the thoughtful expression on Cas's face. "So, did you like it?" Dean asks. 

Cas nods slightly. 

"Wanna do it again?"

Cas looks down, blushing. "I like having you inside me." The blush shifts to shame, shocking Dean into momentary silence. "I like it considerably," Cas whispers.

Dean clears his throat. "Hey, that's okay. No judgment. I mean, I did just have your cock up my ass, and I think it was pretty obvious I liked it." Dean grins, tries to lighten that expression off Cas's face. 

Emotions flicker across Cas's face too fast for Dean to read, then he relaxes.

Dean studies him for a full minute, before deciding distraction is best. "Can I ask you a random question?"

"You may."

"What happened to you? When Raphael, well, you know?" Dean makes a motion across his throat.

Cas sighs. "Jimmy died."

Dean thinks about his wife and that kid for a second. "I'm sorry."

"I woke up alone, in the middle of a meadow." Cas looks at him. "I kept Jimmy unawares. He didn't know about us. He didn't know a lot of things. Some angels, they keep their hosts awake so they can take information about the current state of society from their minds, but I always found that cruel. Their minds aren't built for that. So I kept him asleep, until this body felt like my own." He pauses. "It was always me you were fucking."

Admittedly that was a topic Dean had worked hard not to think about. But there's some kind of heaviness to Cas's words. "I only ever wanted you," Dean says.

Cas nods. "I know." He blinks, slow. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

Cas pauses, but seems to get Dean's meaning from context. "Will you reunite with Sam?"

Dean hides his face in a pillow. "I don't know," he says, muffled.

"You are stronger together."

"If I trust him, then yeah." He raises his head. "And I don't. We're better off apart."

Cas does not reply, but curls up next to Dean, their legs entangled.

\---------------- 

Zachariah becomes an even huger asshole and sends Dean to a future. And Dean is determined that is _one_ future, and not his. Not his and Sam's. Standing by the roadside with Castiel, who says, "We had an appointment," Dean can't help but laugh and kiss him.

Then he calls Sam.

A second echo to Lucifer wearing Sam like a cheap suit is that other Castiel, older and wearied and cynical. After telling those girls the orgy was later and Dean questioned him, he leaned in and said, "Well, time makes whores of us all, doesn't it?"

And then he followed Dean to death.

\---------------- 

Sam and Dean are … well, Sam and Dean again. A few 'easy' hunts, a vanishing anti-Christ, and a Trickster-actually-Gabriel later, things are working smoothly. Dean hasn't explained him and Cas yet, and Castiel is entirely professional outside of the bedroom (usually another room in the same motel, and Dean saying he met a girl at a bar). But Dean can see Castiel winding tighter and tighter. Still, Castiel doesn't give up, though Dean can see him slowly losing hope. Dean doesn't have the heart to say it more than once or twice, but he doubts God's in the picture at all anymore.

Dodging angels gets a little dicey. They've started using normal people as spies, mostly the religious fanatics likely to believe the kind of story where it goes, 'So God needs these two specific dudes' and not question it. 

Dean and Sam are doing some brotherly bonding and are slightly drunk as they leave the bar when it happens. One second Dean's smiling at the night sky, the next he's got an angel in his face, intoning, "Michael has great plans for you," hand outstretched.

_Cas!_ Dean screams in his head. Prays. _Joe's Bar, Virginia_ – "You know, I think I'll pass," Dean says, stumbling back, and Sam, thank God, is already slicing his hand in preparation for a banishing sigil. 

The angel, looking like some normal blue-collar guy in his fifties, takes a step forward and most of Dean's body stops responding, like the angel turned him into a statue.

Then Cas is just there, blade in his left hand as he takes a swing with his right. The angel stumbles back and Cas flips the blade from his left to right. "You will not take them," he growls.

The angel frowns. "Castiel. Dean Winchester's slut. Zachariah didn't think you would like it."

And then Sam is slamming his bloody palm to the pavement, and Cas and that dick angel disappear in a blur of bright light. 

Dean almost falls to his knees, Sam barely catching him. "Dude, you banished Cas –"

"We'll call him after we get out of here," Sam says. "There could be more."

They climb into the Impala and take off at a sedate eighty miles an hour. Dean lets Sam drive, calling Cas over and over, but it keeps going to voicemail. Dean knows that Cas can respond to a call and text, Sam patiently teaching him all the details, but he doesn’t know if Cas can get into his voicemail, so he starts calling without leaving messages, hanging up when it gets to that point.

"Dean, I'm sure he's okay," Sam says. "He's told us before it just knocks them off course for a bit."

Dean nods. "Yeah, yeah. I know." Shoves the cell in his pocket. "Fucking angels." He sits back, letting his legs stretch, rubbing his mouth and swallowing dryly. 

Calling Cas Dean's slut – well, okay, Dean can kind of guess why one of those dickbags would say something like that without knowing anything about their sexual relationship. It's the sort of insult that implies Cas is all kinds of perverted for taking a liking to mud monkeys. Turning it sexual is like the basic rule of childish insults. A random barb. But 'Zachariah didn't think you'd like it' – what does that mean? And the way that the angel had looked at Cas, like he was lower than dirt. Not just disdain, but disgust. Cas had been in front of them, protecting him and Sam, so Dean never saw his face, just his graceful hands holding his angel blade. 

And he's not answering his phone. 

Dean doesn't know what it means, but something tells him it's not good. He takes his cell out of his pocket and dials again. Sam sighs in the driver's seat, but doesn't object. Dean supposes he knows how protective Dean can get. 

Drumming his fingers on his thigh, Dean waits for the voicemail, hangs up and tries again. 

There's a quiet click. "Hello, Dean." 

"Cas, you okay?" Dean demands. 

"I'm fine. I need to make sure I cover my trail. I'll call you back when it's safe." Then Cas hangs up. 

Dean sighs, some tension leaving his body. 

"He good?" Sam asks. 

Dean nods, feeling some relief now. "Yeah. Says he'll call back when he can." 

Sam smiles, nods, and Dean sees some tension leave his brother's shoulders, too. It makes him glad in a way he'll never admit out loud, that Sam likes Cas. Cares for him, even. 

"Wake me up when we're out of the state, would you?" Dean asks Sam, getting comfortable the only you can in the Impala, by slumping. 

Sam drives.

\---------------- 

Two days later, Cas calls Dean. "Can I meet you?" he asks without even saying hello.

Dean sits up, one boot untied. Sam is sitting on the other bed, browsing the internet for interesting cases. They'd stopped for the night only about twenty minutes ago. "Um, yeah." He gives Cas the address, adds, "I'll meet you out front, okay? Ten minutes?" he tells Cas. 

Cas hangs up.

"I'm going to check in with Cas, then go to the bar," Dean says, jerking his chin in the general direction of the bar they'd passed on the way to the motel. 

Without looking up, Sam asks, "Which room number?"

"Aw, Sammy, even I don't get lucky that often –"

"Dean, I'm not an idiot." 

"Well, you did get dropped on your head once." Dean laces up his boot again.

Sam gives him a bitchy look. "I figured it out a month ago, Dean. How you go for a bar and get a girl, except you don't stay all night with girls, half the time you go to their place – which you don't do at all anymore – and you somehow know what Cas has been up to without calling or emailing or texting him. And those looks. I'm not blind. And you don't even flirt with waitresses anymore." 

Dean freezes, even though he's bent over in an awkward position. "Oh." 

Sam rolls his eyes. "Go have fun. Just text me the room number if you don't have it already." 

Well, it's been a while since he got a thumbs up from Sam about having sex. "It doesn't bother you?" 

"Hiding it, yeah. But come on, Dean, you think I'm homophobic?"

Dean snaps, irritated, "I was more thinking the angel thing." He finishes tying his laces, stands up and grabs his leather coat. 

Sam sighs, low and deep. "No, it doesn't bother me." He pauses. "Do you love him?"

Dean gapes at him, then looks away. The truth stirs in him, pops out of his mouth. "I don't know. Maybe."

Taking a deep breath, all Sam says is, "Go have fun. Tell Cas I said hi." 

Wavering, Dean finally nods. "Later." 

The night attendant gives Dean a second key without asking any questions. It's a single queen-size bed and the room has the same awful seventies décor that the other one has. Dean leaves the door cracked and waits for Cas outside, leaning against the Impala. He's never smoked regularly, but he has a sudden urge to light one up now. Too bad he doesn't have cigarettes. 

The sound of wind announces Cas's arrival. He looks a bit harried, hair wild like he stuck his head out the window of a car. He doesn't even wait for Dean to deliver Sam's hi before he's kissing Dean like his life depends on it. 

Cas presses his whole body against Dean's and he's already hard. If Sam is looking, he's getting an eyeful. The kiss is deep and filthy, and then Cas withdraws to growl in Dean's ear, "Fuck me." 

"Room," Dean manages to say. He pushes on Cas's chest until Cas gives him a little room, then grabs Cas's hand and drags him over to the cracked door. Halfway there Cas seems to realize where they're going and presses a finger to Dean's forehead, and then they're inside. "Wow, dude," is all Dean gets out before Cas is kissing him again, sloppy and wet.

_Zachariah didn't think you would like it._

Fingers pull at his coat, tugging it off, and Cas nearly rips off the shirt under that, palms flat on Dean's stomach, pushing upward until he grazes Dean's nipples, then grabbing the bunched fabric and yanking upwards. He makes an irritated noise at Dean's jeans and breaks off the kiss to kneel on one knee to unlace his boots and yank off those, too. Jeans are last, leaving Dean completely naked while Cas is still completely dressed. 

Cas strips quickly and efficiently. Dean grabs the lube from his coat while he does it, but there's an odd twisting in his gut.

_Zachariah didn't think you would like it._

One hand on Dean's chest, he pushes Dean to the bed and grabs the lube from his hands, uncapping it and spreading it on his own fingers, then reaching behind himself. He presses one knee against Dean's hard cock, rubbing, and Dean reaches up, starts stroking Cas. It makes Cas falter for a half second in his efforts to stretch himself, eyes dark. Eyes dark. He's not meeting Dean's eyes, staring instead at Dean's dick. 

_Zachariah didn't think you would like it._

"Cas, stop."

"Why?" Cas growls, fingers still in his own ass. 

"What did he mean?" Dean blurts. 

Cas stills. Doesn't pretend he's clueless. "It is not of import."

"I think it is," Dean snaps, that _this is wrong_ feeling getting bigger and bigger. "'Zachariah didn't think you would like it,'" Dean quotes. 

Cas flinches. 

Dean sits up, gently pushing Cas back. Cas takes out his fingers, sits on the bed, shoulders hunched over and not meeting Dean's gaze. Dean is still half-hard, but he's softening even though his heart is racing. "What did he mean?" Dean asks again. 

Blue eyes meet his. "Dean, please." 

Somehow, that stiffens Dean's resolve. "Tell me." 

Cas swallows, open his mouth to speak, shuts it. Another swallow and he says, low and shaky, "Zachariah ordered me to seduce you. In order to keep your allegiance to heaven."

Shock blossoms like a wave through Dean's chest, into his heart. So that whole time – that whole time, Cas was fucking him for heaven's sake? To keep Dean an obedient little soldier, heaven's blunt instrument instead of John's? Dean feels sick, counting back to all the encounters they've had, all the awkwardness in how Cas went after him. Rage replaces the nausea. Dean's been falling in love and Cas has been fucking him to keep on heaven's side –

Except. He didn't. 

He joined Dean in rebelling against fate. 

All those times Cas hesitated when Dean asked if he wanted this, Cas was under orders to sleep with Dean. He didn't have a choice. He was told to spread his legs and take Dean's dick, take whatever Dean wanted to dish out to him. _Tell me how to please you_ , being one of the first things Cas says to him in bed. Not being aroused, or only partially, especially in the beginning. _Whatever you want. Good. I want to please you._

Cas was raped. 

His blue eyes are fearful, but Dean can only stare at him in shocked silence, all the memories of the past year whirling through his head, being retranslated. 

That automatic, _Did I displease you_. The embarrassment, not meeting his eyes when Dean asks if he can touch him and Cas gives him an unequivocal yes. The shock, pleasure and helpless confusion when Dean fucked his ass for the first time. _Whatever you want._

Cas flinching when Dean asks if he follows orders. Of course he does. He followed orders and let Dean rape him. _My superiors are displeased with me. You being difficult._ Dean knows Cas was taken to angel training camp, or maybe a torture chamber when he was pulled out of Jimmy. Did that happen more than once? How often was Cas hurt because Dean fucking him wasn't enough to keep Dean obedient?

_I can bleed, if you like. As much as you want._

Dean gets up and rushes to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he's vomiting. He leans on the toilet seat with his elbows, nearly hyperventilating. Closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see if Cas follows.

_You cared what I felt. That's all I want._ Of course it was. He wanted someone to actually give a fuck about him beyond his uses in bed or on the battlefield. 

Dean saying he thought Cas didn't serve him. Cas replying, _I don't. Do you want sex or not?_ Because he was still under orders to service Dean in bed. How can Dean have been so stupid? So completely moronic, oblivious to all the cues that Cas didn't want Dean? Dean made him enjoy, feel pleasure, from being raped. He thought he was being an attentive lover, but all he was doing was fucking up Cas's head even worse. Dean of all people knows how much it screws you up to enjoy something you don't want to. He was raping and torturing Cas and he didn't even know it. He's a fucking fool, the monster Cas should have left in hell.

And Cas – Cas, after Dean failed to stop Sam, kept coming back to Dean's bed. _I lost everything for nothing._ Sobbing in Dean's arms. Who else is going to hold him? And then asking, _Do I please you?_ Because now Dean is all he has left. His rapist is all Cas has left. 

_I like having you inside of me_. The shame on Cas's face. _I like it considerably._

Dean understands, now, 'Dean Winchester's slut.' They know, who knows exactly how, that Cas continued their 'relationship.' And it disgusts them. That Cas from the alternate future, saying, _Well, time makes whores of us all, doesn't it?_ That's how Cas thinks of himself. _I know for humans it has significance, a meaning of submission_. And for an angel to submit to a human is repulsive. Dean knows, just knows, that's what his Cas thinks. That he's disgusting, that his actions are repulsive, that's he's a whore, if not worse. 

Opening his eyes, Dean stares at the vomit in the toilet bowl, mouth sour, before slowly raising his eyes. Cas is still naked, standing at the doorway. He's clamped down on his emotions a little bit, but his hand is trembling just the smallest amount where he's grasping the doorway, and the fear and worry in his eyes is unmistakable. He's waiting for Dean's reaction. 

"I'm sorry," Cas says quietly.

Tears blur Dean's vision. He wipes his eyes. Says, "Don't be. There's no reason for you to be sorry."

"I deceived you." Barely audible.

Dean looks at Cas. Really looks at him. Blue eyes and dark brown hair, a lithe runner's body. How he moves is completely different from Jimmy, a weird combination of grace and brute force. He walks like he expects the world to break apart before he stumbles, walks like walls will crumble before he reaches them. Dean remembers how he stalked through doorways, like at the barn, or when he walked in with Uriel to kill Anna. But he's so careful with his hands and can flip his angel blade from palm to palm, twist it and wield it upfront like a sword, or downward like a knife. He's gentle when he presses two fingers to Dean's forehead, to move him or heal him. When he's with Dean, he has that same carefulness, like he's wielding a blade when he touches Dean's skin. 

And Dean loves him. Loves his fascination and irritation with humanity. Loves that Cas got it when Dean told him this was worth dying for. Loves that Cas won't give up, that he's going to try to find God if it’s the last thing he does, and none of that is for him, it's all for the world. For Dean and Sam. For _Dean_ , for fuck's sake. 

Cas's breathing is accelerated, still carrying that fear in his eyes. Uncertainty, too. Cas fears … Cas fears what? Dean's judgment? His rejection? But Cas shouldn't fear him, shouldn't think he's on the wrong side of this at all. Cas is the one that has always tried to do the right thing, even after enduring rape from one of the humans he chose to protect.

Dean gets up, somewhat wobbly, and goes to the sink. He gets a handful of water and rinses his mouth, then spits it out. 

To his credit, Cas stays in the doorway with his chin raised. 

Dean doesn't touch him. He's said before, to Sam, _I need you_. He meant, _I love you_. He couldn't say those words. But Dean can't say that now, not with everything it would mean. So, "I love you," he says simply. And the words spill out easier than he expected.

Cas blinks, startled. His hand tightens on the door frame, hard enough it creaks. "I don't understand." 

"Put some pants on. Would you put some pants on?" Dean corrects himself, making sure to ask. 

Cas hesitates, making Dean's throat tighten. Then he backs away and puts on his slacks. After a moment of dawdling, he settles on the bed with his back straight as a board. Dean walks over to his discarded jeans and pulls them on, then his t-shirt for good measure, feeling like he needs a layer or two of clothing in between him and Cas to have this discussion. And God, he doesn't want to talk about it, he wants to run out of here at warp speed, but Cas needs it. 

Trying to be as far from Cas as possible while still being in the same room, Dean leans against the far wall. "That day, when you said you were, uh, interested, that was under orders?" he asks.

Looking like he's steeling himself, Cas nods. 

"And after that, the first time we had sex – that was under orders, too?" 

"Yes," Cas says warily. 

Dean tries to quiet his roiling stomach. "Did you want to have sex then?" Cas squints, so before he can reply Dean adds, "Be honest. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear."

Cas exhales, slow. "No."

"And if you had said no to those orders? What, reeducation like when you got taken back to heaven?"

"Yes. Or something similar, as is standard with any disobedience."

"Okay. Okay." Dean breathes. He thinks he's going to have to spell it out, because he doesn't think Cas is looking at this properly. "That was coercion. That was rape. You were raped, Cas." _I raped you_.

Cas stands up, expression blank. "I fail to see the relevance of my former orders or status to the present." 

He stalks over to Dean, who ducks away, feeling nauseous.

And Cas just looks confused. _Confused_. He swallows, doesn’t follow. "Are you angry at me?" 

Dean makes a disbelieving noise, can't help himself. "No, Cas, I'm not angry at you." 

"Then why won't you let me touch you?"

The man that Dean loves is close, so close, and Dean wants nothing more than to pull Cas into his arms and hold him, touch him. But when Cas tries again, taking a step closer, Dean backs up, shaking his head and holding out a hand.

Cas looks hurt, betrayed. "Dean. I want you."

"But do you? Do you? I can't trust that. And I. Look, I lo – love you. I'm not doing that to you." Dean looks into Cas's desperate eyes. "I won't do to you what I did to all those souls in hell. Not again. It's – this is never happening again."

Little hiccupping breaths start to escape Cas. "I don't understand. Why – I don't want you to do this." 

"I'm sorry, Cas. For everything."

Cas stands there, looking lonely. His hands clench and unclench, and the image is familiar enough to make Dean's heart hurt. 

_Now_ Dean runs.

\---------------- 

Dean wakes up in the Impala the next morning, hungover and pulled over by the side of a road. Some road, somewhere. His cell is ringing, and he has vague dreams that were incorporating that ringing, so it must have been blaring for a while. He picks it up, checks the caller.

"Hey, Sam," Dean says, staring at the Impala's roof.

"Dean, where the hell have you been?"

\---------------- 

Dean has a lot of time to puzzle over Cas's last words, because the angel doesn't speak to him or Sam for a month. He stays up at night, going over everything said, trying to look it at from all the angles. It's fair to say he spends more time thinking about Cas than he does the apocalypse, and that's saying something. Sam keeps demanding to know what happened, where Cas is, why Dean insists they don't call him unless it's an absolute emergency, but Dean got good at shutting other people out after hell. So Sam knows nothing, except that's Dean once again taken to staring at blank walls.

Then one day, Dean realizes this isn't enough. His guilt. It's not fucking enough. It's not what Cas deserves. 

He sends Sam on an errand that will take a while, and then he grabs Sam's laptop and starts searching. 'Rape recovery' leads to a number of different websites, most of which have hotlines. A few have articles about the most common reactions to being raped, things like panic and PTSD, nervousness and depression. It's not exactly new to Dean, because he didn't just inflict rape on others in hell, but about that at least, Dean had always held himself pretty blameless. It _was_ hell, after all. What he did to others …

Cas isn't human, of course. But he has human emotions, human needs. Even if he's not supposed to, which Dean does get that impression from what little Cas has told him of heaven.

Dean starts trying to catalog all the reactions, see if they fit Cas or not. Some of them do – Cas feels a lot of shame for having sex with Dean and enjoying it, at least on a physical level. Judging from future-Cas's whore comment, he feels dirty. He doesn’t seem to be angry, at least not when it's unwarranted. (Dean failing and letting Lucifer out, well, that deserved some anger.) Shattered trust? Well, heaven did that first. And Cas can't really afford to trust most people. Fear? Yeah. Castiel, kick-ass angel of the lord who dragged Dean's sorry ass out of hell, is afraid of Dean. His rapist. Dean doesn't think it's necessarily in a physical sense – Cas can still kick his ass, and he's always gotten the sense that Cas still knows that – but more in the emotional one. Cas in insecure. And alone. And falling. He has no one to help him except Sam and Dean. 

Sam. Dean frowns, thinking about that. 

Like Dean summoned him, Sam is stomping through the doorway, food in hand and he's at Dean's side before Dean can overcome his fingers abruptly fumbling, looking at the laptop screen. Dean hastily shuts down the browser window, but not in time. 

Sam sets the takeout on the table. Then he sits on the nearby bed, his 'very carefully supportive' look on his face. "Dean, you always know I'm here to talk –"

"Sam, it's not for me!"

Sam blinks, but seems to believe him. "Then who? Is it about a hunt?"

Dean shakes his head, then freezes, because yeah, he should have gone with that.

"If it's not a hunt, then it's someone we know. And I don't think its Bobby," Sam says. 

"What, you don't think someone'd want to tap that?"

Sam makes a face. "Dean, stop it."

Dean bites his lip. A current of shame works through him that he doesn't want to tell Sam the horrible thing he's done, but he also knows that Sam could help him help Cas. But according to what he read, you have to respect the boundaries of the person traumatized, not demanding they tell they police or anything. Sam's not exactly the police, and he is a friend, but boundaries are boundaries and telling Sam is kind of not respecting that.

"Is this about Cas?" Sam finally ventures. 

Now Dean really can't meet his eyes. 

"God, Dean. What happened?" Sam sounds horrified. 

Dean has to force himself to look Sam in the eye, knowing he's got to spill the beans now. "You remember that angel at the bar? A month ago? What he said?" 

Sam nods slowly.

"Apparently Zachariah ordered Cas to sleep with me, to keep me loyal to heaven. And Cas did, even though he didn't want to." Dean takes a deep breath, but Sam doesn't interrupt, eyes wide, but still sympathetic, still listening. "I raped him, Sammy, and I didn't even fucking know it." 

"Okay. Um." Sam runs a hand through his hair. "I need to understand this. And the relationship kept going after Cas rebelled? Did you … know?"

"Not until that night I drove off drunk, no. But yeah, Cas came to me after Lucifer rose, when you were off on your own."

Sam nods again, like that's all he can do. "Is he okay?"

"No. I don't know. I don't think so." Dean buries his head in his hands. "Fuck, Sam. I don't know what to do." 

Sam answers carefully, and not of Cas. "Maybe we should be asking Cas that question. What he wants to do."

It seems entirely obvious now that Sam says it. "Yeah. Yeah. I think you're right." When was the last time someone asked Cas that question? Dean knows he's asked it in the past and not gotten a particularly straight answer, but that was back when Cas was still following heaven's orders. "But how? I don't even know how to face him, Sam. After all of that. And – and last time I saw him, I said it was over. And I mean it should be over, because fuck that's sick, but Sam, what if he never wants to see me again?" 

Sam frowns. "I think you have to, Dean. Because I do think Cas cares about you. I don't know how feels about … the rape, but …" He straightens. "How about I call him, ask him to stop by when he's not busy? I'll let him know you're here, so if he – uh – doesn't want to see you, then we can work that out."

"He's only got us, Sammy," Dean says quietly. "No one else. I don't think he's going to actually say he doesn't want to see my sorry ass again." He laughs bitterly. "And Hallmark doesn't have a card for 'Sorry, didn't mean to rape you.'"

For almost a full minute, Sam says nothing. He's got that line in between his eyebrows, that thinky look that means Sam is processing things a lot faster than Dean ever will. Dean is quick and smart enough, but Sam thinks about things in ways Dean never will, pulling from all kinds of obscure facts in his lawyer brain. So Dean waits, listening. "Look, Dean. I know you want to beat yourself up, but it sounds to me like you didn't know what Cas was ordered into. In that case, it's Zachariah's fault, not yours." 

Dean snorts. "I should've seen it." 

Sam doesn't disagree, but there's still no blame in his eyes. Like he's decided not to argue. "I think we should wait a couple days and think about this. Then I'll give Cas a call."

\---------------- 

Sam thinks about it. Sam thinks about it a lot.

Despite being Sam's older brother, Dean still has a hard time reading Sam's mind, but he knows when Sam has hooked onto a problem like a piranha. The Cas problem is being chewed into tiny little pieces, while Sam sits on the car, while they go on a hunt, while Sam eats breakfast at a diner. At this point the analogy is a little disturbing, so Dean does his best to do the opposite and stop thinking about it. Sam still drags out information, and Dean gives him as little as possible while still being factual about it. Some of it he doesn't talk about – seems like an invasion of privacy, or something.

Sam does say, "I think you should listen to Castiel, figure out what he's thinking. I know you'll look out for him. I trust you, Dean."

So nearly a week later, they settle in yet another random motel, this one sea-themed. The carpets are that obnoxious green color of fake plants, while the walls are a baby blue that looks more appropriate in a nursery. Sam goes for takeout, leaving Dean behind so he can grab a shower before crashing. 

Dean's barefoot but still dressed when Cas pops into being right in front of him. Dean freezes like someone's got a gun on him, then asks, "How'd you find us?" 

"Sam called."

Of course he did, that son of a bitch. Dean takes a moment to look Cas over. He looks okay. Same suit, same trench, same wild hair. Steady eyes. Considerably calmer than the last time Dean saw him, at least. 

"Dean," Cas says in his usual gravelly tone of voice. "You said I didn't have to fuck you to keep you as my friend. Was that a lie?" 

It's like a punch to Dean's gut. "No. No, that wasn't a lie."

Cas's shoulders seem to settle a little. "Sam said I should be direct. About what I want."

"Okay," Dean says warily. He's not sure what he's expecting, honestly. A fist to the face, maybe. "What do you want?"

Cas shifts on his feet. "I want a physical embrace. The kind that friends partake in."

"A hug?" Dean asks, more than surprised, and Cas nods. "Are you sure?"

Cas looks a bit lost. "You taught me to need it."

Ow. But okay. Dean, feeling awkward as hell, holds out his arms. He doesn't want to step forward, force it on Cas. But Cas just steps in, no problem, until his whole front is pressed against Dean's with his head on Dean's shoulder, and then his hands settle on Dean's back. Cas isn't hard and neither is Dean, which is a bit new, and Cas gives a sigh as Dean's arms surround him.

"I never thought much of this body, until you," Cas murmurs into his shoulder.

Dean tightens his hold on instinct, but instead of Cas tensing up he relaxes further. Dean doesn't know why, he doesn't understand it, but he decides to go with it and relax himself, let Cas fall into him. After a minute or two, though, Dean's cock begins to twitch just from muscle memory, from the smell and sensation of having Cas close. Just about everything about Cas turns Dean on. So Dean gently separates them before it becomes noticeable. 

"Better?" Dean asks. 

Cas nods.

Now Dean has no idea what to say. Damn Sam for not warning him, though that dickhead probably had some logical reason for it.

Dean backs up a bit, sits on Sam's bed. "Do you want to talk?" he asks awkwardly.

"I wish I didn't tell you." 

Dean tries to work some moisture into his mouth. "I'm glad you did." And it's honest.

"I want you," Cas says, tone urgent. It's a familiar tone, enough that Dean's cock twitches again. "I want things to be like how they were before."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Dean says carefully. In the before, Cas sobbed in his arms. In the before, Cas was hiding everything that hurt him. Dean doesn't want to go back there. He's not sure even Cas really wants to go back there. It's just what Cas knows. 

"You still want me," Cas says, taking a half step forward, "I know you do. I can see your pupils react, hear your heartbeat race, smell your pheromones change. You became aroused when close to me."

"But were you happy?" Dean asks quietly.

"Happy enough," Cas snaps. Then, "What does that matter?" His gaze roams the room, and the tension has returned to his body. He's holding himself stiffly, the way he did when Dean first met him.

Dean rubs his face, using it as an excuse not to meet Cas's blazing eyes. "I'm not exactly the sharing type, Cas. I don’t like talking about feelings. But you're not okay, and you're not happy." And Dean loves him too much to just let that go. He considers his next words carefully. "And you've got to have that to be in a relationship with someone."

Cas stares down at him. "Do you love me?" 

Dean nearly stops breathing. "Yeah, I do." 

"And this is necessary? Required? To speak to you, to convince you I am fine?" Cas looks determined.

"For me, it is. Yeah." Dean nods, wondering what Cas will say next.

Instead of speaking, Cas looks away. He gazes at a far-off point for so long Dean wonders if he's seeing something Dean can't, if he's looking beyond the physical plane. A few trembles work through his body, disappearing after a second or two, then reappearing a minute later. Dean can almost feel the lights about to flicker, the way they do when Cas flies – or when he comes. Like lightning hiding in the corners of the room, waiting to be called out. He wonders what Cas is thinking, if he's going to talk.

Dean didn't expect Cas to want to keep going with their relationship, though based on what Cas said before, he probably should have. 

Cas is so very quiet, then, "I am not fine."

That hurts. But it's like gutting an infected wound, letting the poison pour out. And more for Cas than Dean. "I hear you," is all Dean says. 

"He wasn't the first of my siblings to say that to me."

"Dicks with wings," Dean says, anger surging back. "Don't listen to them."

But Cas just looks contemplative. He sits on Dean's bed, mimicking Dean probably for Dean's comfort. Not really understanding the social cues, but following them as best as he can anyway. He doesn't meet Dean's eyes as he says, "I went to a library to research the matter. The origin of the terms, and their current cultural and social meaning."

Dean chokes. "You went to a library? About that?"

"They are centers of knowledge, Dean."

Now is not the time to argue. "What did you find?"

Cas is thoughtful. "I understand the cultural context now. Whoring is not a new concept, but today those that practice it are looked down upon, as are those that enforce or encourage it. Sluts enjoy sex indiscriminately, or when they shouldn't." He pauses, jaw clenching. "Zachariah made me a whore, but I made myself a slut."

"How – Cas, you're neither. I swear to God, you're not."

"But I enjoyed it." The words come out painfully. "I sought it, even after there was no direct requirement to do so."

"Enjoying sex doesn't make you a slut," Dean snaps, angry and unable to hide it. He wants to kick something, get up and punch the baby-blue wall. He's also pinging onto the fact that Cas is focusing on the 'slut' comment more. "That's bullshit. Look, your asshole siblings are wrong about a lot of things. You think they're right about this? They don't know shit. And what Zachariah, Zachariah is just evil. I'm gonna hunt that bastard down someday, I promise you, Cas."

Cas stares at him, silent. Dean can see the shame now, Cas no longer able to hide it. After a second of Dean's gazing at him, Cas looks down at his hands, relaxed with his palms up. He whispers, "I didn't really think of this body as mine. I thought it would be a quick, unpleasant experience I would simply endure. But you didn't have sex with this body, you had sex with me. And that ended up being the most powerful part of it."

Dean wipes his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears before they start. "I'm sorry. You don’t deserve this –"

"I let Sam out of the panic room."

Dean stops and has to take a deep breath. Damn Cas for admitting that right now, when all the wrongs committed against him are stacked up. Because Dean would have punched him in the face otherwise. "Okay, so you made a huge fucking mistake. Welcome to the club. That doesn't change that what happened to you –" _what I did to you_ – "was wrong."

Cas doesn't reply immediately. He looks slightly taken aback, like he was expecting a different response. "I know what I feel shouldn't matter, that I have to find God and I should be completely focused on that task. As a soldier of God, I know my emotions are irrelevant and my duty supreme."

Dean's about to say, _You're only human_ , but that isn't exactly true. "Yeah, well, fuck'em. All that emotional shit is what we're fighting for."

"Even with the pain?"

Dean hesitates, thinking about all the suffering in the world, but all the good, too. Then he nods. "Yeah, even with the pain."

Cas rises to his feet and walks the two steps to Dean, who resists the urge to flee. Gazing down at him, Cas touches Dean's cheek lightly with his fingertips, like that's all he's allowed to touch. Then he bends down and kisses Dean lightly on the lips. 

Before Dean can protest, Cas flies away.

\---------------- 

Dean doesn't see Cas for a while after that, not until the whole mess with killing Lucifer goes down. After getting a lead on the Colt, actually acquiring the gun turns out to be easy. That's demons for you – apparently not always the most loyal of subjects.

Not that that saved Jo and Ellen. A bitter anger fills Dean that Lucifer is still walking around, and they're dead. As much as Dean wants to join them, an even bigger part wants revenge. Wants to undo the damage he's done, with the first seal being broken, with Sam breaking the last. Kill Lucifer. Stop the apocalypse. A tall order is an understatement, but defiance in the face of ridiculous odds is the life of a hunter. Dean feels, stupidly, like he's back.

As it turns out, Cas was in deadly danger during the assassination attempt, but by the time Dean knows that, it's over. After apologizing for not being there to save Ellen and Jo, Cas briefly says that Lucifer trapped him, asked him to join his cause, and then Cas escaped. And then Cas leaves, the whole time acting completely normal. At first it makes Dean nervous that there's something he's not seeing, but Dean eventually decides it's a good thing. Cas is functioning.

After that, Dean somewhat self consciously sends Cas a prayer – asking him if he's okay, telling him that Dean is here if Cas wants him. Every night for nearly a week Dean tells Cas where he and Sam are staying. And one night, Cas turns up. 

Dean's actually got a gun in his hand this time, though it's not loaded since Dean is cleaning it. The one by his foot on the bed is, however, and with the rush of air Dean reaches for it and has it pointed at Cas before he has time to think it through. Which is good. Correct response and decent reaction time. But Dean is lowering the gun within a second, recognizing Cas pretty easily. Sam, on the other bed, had leaped for a knife and had it on his palm, but he relaxes, too. 

"Hey, Cas," Dean says. "How's it hanging?" 

"I do not know which object you are referring to, or where it is hanging." Cas says it solemnly, with a bit of a question to it like he's wondering if this is an important issue and whether he needs to lend assistance.

Sam hides a smile, then says, "I'll just start on the hunt and go to the library."

Dean eyes him. "At ten at night?" 

"Yep," Sam says, and skedaddles.

Cas watches him go, looking slightly confused. 

"Not busy anymore?" Dean guesses. 

Cas tilts his head. 

"It's been almost a week," Dean explains. "I figured you were off doing something." That or Cas was avoiding him. Which has definitely occurred to Dean.

"I wasn't sure you were praying intentionally," Cas says. 

Dean blinks. "Huh?"

"You have been praying to me randomly for months, since not long after Lucifer rose. At first I thought it was deliberate, but when you would repeat yourself or contradict yourself later, I realized you weren't doing it on purpose."

Great, Dean did the angelic version of drunk-dialing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a glimpse into your mind I would not have otherwise had."

"Well, at least tell me I didn't say anything embarrassing."

Cas smiles.

Dean laughs, suddenly fiercely glad Cas is here and talking to him like this. He finds himself just taking it in, watching Cas give him that tiny look of amusement. "How're you doing, buddy?" 

Cas dips his head. "Better."

"Good. That's good." 

The moment passes. Cas steps forward, towards Dean, but all he does is settle next to Dean on the bed, hands on his knees. He doesn't look over, either. As the minutes tick on, Dean becomes uncomfortably aware of his breathing compared to Cas's. Dean's are rapid, while Cas just goes on nice and even and slow. It feels a little weird that Cas is the calmer one. 

When Dean looks up from his hands, Cas is staring at him. "What?" Dean asks. 

Cas cups Dean's cheek, then runs his hand past Dean's ear, up from his nape into the thick of a cowlick. 

"Ehm. Cas."

"Dean." Cas's eyes are that electric blue again. 

"I don't think this is a good idea," Dean says. "In fact, I'm going to state for the record, I'm not doing this."

Those blue eyes shut. Cas's hand drops. "This is my choice. Why will you not respect that?" 

"Because I know, better than anybody, that sometimes we make the wrong choices. Ones that are shit-tastic for us. And," Dean thinks of what to say. "Cas, I raped you. How could you want this?"

"You didn't rape me, Dean."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. "It was my dick!" And hands. And mouth. 

Castiel grabs his hands, and for a second the contact soothes him. Then he wants to throw up. "How you can stand to touch me?" he demands, yanking his hands back.

Frowning thunderously, Castiel grabs his hands again. "I am choosing to touch you. Respect that."

Dean stills, warm calluses rubbing against his own as Cas tightens his grip. His mouth is dry. "Cas."

"I felt violated, yes. But not by you, Dean. You were always so careful of me. I lied to get you to engage in intercourse with me. It was never your fault, what I felt. I hold Zachariah responsible for the circumstances, not you."

Skin itching, Dean stands up and walks across the room, behind Sam's bed. Cas lets him go. He points at Cas. "You're afraid of me. Don't think I haven’t seen it." 

"Yes. And no." Cas pauses. "Angels rarely fear. We rarely feel much emotions at all. Even in the depths of hell, looking for you, any fear I felt I could simply erase with my grace. And although my siblings hunt me, I do not fear them."

Dean's mind is kind of blown by this whole conversation. He searches for more words. Any words. "But Zachariah –"

"I don't fear Zachariah. He's meaningless to me. Of course he may one day lead to my death, but that is the case of all my siblings. I fear you, Dean, because you are important to me. Because I fear losing you. I am not afraid of you. I can still, as you say, kick your butt."

"Ass, Cas. Adults say 'ass.'"

Cas stands himself, leans in such a way that even with fifteen feet between them Dean feels him close. The air faintly crackles. "Are you listening to me, Dean?"

Dean forces down the babble of words that want to come out."I'm listening." 

"I fell in love with you, Dean."

Dean falters, puts a hand on the bed to steady himself.

"And for me, that was more of a crime than rebelling. When I got pulled out of Jimmy, that's what they focused on. Both because it was considered a fatal flaw, and because my disobedience was a result of my ability to feel." Now Cas falters, looks away. "My ability to have empathy. To feel affection. To feel shame."

Anger works through Dean, from nowhere, directed at who knows what. Words spill out like they simply appear on his tongue. "So what? I raped you so nicely you decided I wasn't evil?"

"There's a reason that angel called me a slut," Castiel mutters, still not looking at Dean. "Instead of a whore." 

The anger disappears. Dean wasn't expecting that reaction, and he feels the sharp pricking of shame in himself for saying something so cruel. He hesitates, then goes around Sam's bed to get within an arms-length of Cas. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" There's a dare there, and Cas meets Dean's gaze.

"I'm just – just sorry. For what I said. Really fucking sorry. That all this happened." Dean hesitates again. "Do you still feel that way about me?" 

Cas's glare softens. "Yes."

Dean inches forward. Cups Cas's cheek, letting his hand stroke past his ear to his nape, then pulling his fingers up through Cas's hair, a perfect imitation of what Cas did five minutes earlier. Cas sighs and his head falls against Dean's, forehead to forehead. Close enough Dean can feel each warmth puff of air as Cas breathes. "Okay," Dean says, breathing in Cas's warmth. "Okay."

There's a knock at the door, startling them both. Dean's hands both drop away from Cas, and Cas in turn takes a step backwards.

"Dean?" Sam's voice is muffled. 

"Yeah, come in," Dean says. He almost says, We're not naked, but decides that would be poor timing.

Sam enters cautiously, eyeing the room and the beds and then Dean. It's a little insulting. Like Dean would have let it go that far, and he half-wonders if Sam is judging Dean for being within a couple of feet of Cas; they clearly weren't sitting around casually chatting. But Sam just smiles, raises a takeout bag. "Breakfast. The diner finally closed, but I got some leftovers for tomorrow morning."

"I thought you were going to the library?" Dean asks.

Sam shoots him a dirty look. 

"I will leave you both to rest," Cas says. 

Sam places the takeout bag on the table and then does something unexpected. He walks over to Cas, opens his gorilla arms and gives Cas a hug. And Cas hugs him back, a lot more comfortably than Dean would have expected. Like maybe that wasn't the first time."Night, Cas. Make sure you rest, too, okay?" Sam says. 

Cas bows his head. "Thank you, Sam."

He gives Dean one final, soul-searching look, then there's the flutter of his wings and he's gone.

Sam starts taking off his boots, wriggling his massive moose feet. "Did you guys finally talk?" 

"Yeah. But I'm getting the feeling not all of it would be news to you." 

Sam shrugs. "Cas is my friend, too," is all he says. 

When Dean lies down for the night, dressed in his usual boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, he thinks about that. And comes to the conclusion that he's glad Cas has another friend, someone he can talk to – someone who probably isn't as emotionally constipated as Dean is. Sam was always better about that kind of thing, born out of years of being frustrated by his own family's inability to talk and learning to give what he didn't have too much of himself, developed into a strong trait because Dean teased him for it. Nothing makes that kid dig in his heels more than that. 

In the dark quiet, Dean says, "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sleepily.

"Thanks."

A slight pause. "You're welcome."

\---------------- 

Michael's words ring in Dean's head. _Free will is an illusion_. The words were strange coming out of John Winchester's mouth in 1978, serious but without any of the gruffness or suppressed emotion Dean has always seen in his father. It didn't even match the happier version of John that Dean met the first time Castiel sent Dean into the past. Dean completely believed it was Michael talking to him. Dickhead.

Sam's asleep in the other motel bed, having passed out hours ago. Dean feels just as drained, but his mind won't shut down and sleep. 

He hasn't seen Cas since 1978, and that's worrying. He's assuming that Cas woke up in the motel room, recovered, and came back. But the last item on that list hasn't happened. And after all, it was time traveling, even if it took Cas a while to recover in 1978, wouldn't he still pop up _now_ in the present?

A thunk has Dean grabbing Ruby's knife and throwing off the sheets, flipping on a light. He hears Sam do the same, except with the added noise of a gun cocking. 

Cas is collapsed on the floor.

Dean vaults out of bed and is by his side in a second, touching Cas's shoulders. "Cas? Cas, you okay?" He rolls Cas over when Cas fails to move and sees the blood pouring from his mouth and nose. It's not gushing, but it's also not stopping. Cas's eyes are closed, his mouth slack.

"Here," Sam says, appearing with a towel. He wipes down Cas's face, not to clean him necessarily but to check for injuries like he would do for Dean. "Check the rest of him."

Dean checks his breathing first, making sure he's inhaling and exhaling steadily without any difficulty, which he is. Next Dean runs his hands down Cas's suit and trenchcoat, checking for tears, rips and blood. He doesn't find any, and he's familiar enough with Cas's clothes to see that there's nothing odd there. No bumps or bruises that Dean can see, either, though he'd have to strip him down to boxers to really tell. Lastly, he tests Cas's limbs, making sure his arms and legs are loose and relaxed, that there's nothing wrong with the muscle or bone. "He seems okay," Dean tells Sam. 

The blood flow from his mouth is slowing. "Let's get him on your bed," Sam says. 

"My bed?"

Sam just gives him a look, and Dean shuts his mouth. Dean gets his shoulders and Sam his legs, and then on a single nod – communicating in shorthand being easy for them – they lift and move Cas to the bed. Dude's surprisingly heavy. Once that's done, Sam and Dean just stand there and stare at him for a minute. 

"Wait for him to wake up?" Sam suggests. 

"Nothing else to do," Dean says with a shrug. The bed is a queen and Cas only occupies half of it, so Dean grabs a fresh towel, lays it under Cas's head and then settles next to him, propped up against the headboard. "You might as well go back to sleep," he says to Sam. "This might take a while."

"I'll recheck our hex bags." 

Dean watches from the bed as Sam does just that, and then checks the salt lines, and then the parking lot and the car (which Dean gives Sam a thumbs up for) before he finally sinks back down on his bed. Sam's eyes are drooping and his hair is a mess; despite being awake, he clearly didn't wake up well. Dean points at the light on Sam's side of the room, and Sam doesn't argue, turning it off and lying down on top of the covers – just in case he has to get up quickly. 

The soft, snuffling snores that mark Sam's deep sleep come in only a few minutes. Dean grabs Sam's laptop, does some random searches on local newspapers. After twenty minutes, he wipes up the blood with another motel towel (they should leave tomorrow without checking out, and/or just take the towels and burn them later) and sees that the blood flow has stopped. Cas's pulse and breathing remain normal. 

After an hour, there's a quiet whisper from Cas's side of the bed. "Dean?"

"Hey," Dean says softly, looking over. 

Cas's eyes are only slits. "Michael returned you?" 

"Yeah. You seem to have had some trouble, though." 

"I apologize I could not help you further, but I am glad to see you still exist." Cas says it somberly. 

Despite everything, Dean's mouth twitches into a smile. "Me, too. You feeling okay?" 

Slight pause. "I will recover."

Dean nods. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"I went looking," Cas says, slurring the words a bit. His gaze drifts around the room. "All the hotels with your usual decoration in this area. I only had to search a hundred."

"But, how did you know we were here? We drove nearly eight hours."

"I heard you," Cas says. 

More drunk-dialing, apparently. "Well, rest up. The apocalypse is still on."

Cas frowns at him. "I am aware, Dean."

"Yeah, I – never mind." Cas moves as if to get up and Dean presses a hand to his chest, holding him down. "Dude, you are not in shape to go anywhere. Just sleep."

"I am not looking forward to the eventuality of requiring that. Being unconscious is not pleasurable." 

Dean smiles. "Depends on the kind. You mind?"

Cas nods, though he probably doesn't know what he's agreeing to.

"Just getting you comfortable," Dean assures him. "That whacky unconsciousness thing is easier this way." Dean sits up and tugs off Cas's shoes, leaving his socks on. Then he moves to the trenchcoat, helping half-sit to get it off, then the suit coat under it. He leaves on Cas's pants and undershirt. Cas lets him do it, making Dean do all the work much like a child would, a curious expression his face. No fear, though, or Dean would have stopped.

Lastly, Dean pulls back the covers and slips under at the same time he throws the comforter over Cas. Despite neither of them being exactly small, there's enough room that they're not touching. Dean punches his pillow into a more suitable shape and then lies down. His eyes are half-closed when he feels a hesitant touch on his waist. 

He opens his eyes to find that Cas has shifted onto his side, reaching out. Cas inches towards Dean, his palm still warm on Dean. Holding his breath, Dean nods at him. Cas immediately takes that as a yes, and shifts his entire body over until they're close enough for Cas to entangle his legs with Dean's. It's not exactly the safest way to sleep with their lives the way they are, but Dean doesn't argue. Cas keeps his hand on Dean's waist, tugging his pillow with him so close that Dean can feel Cas breathing. Something about it relaxes him. 

"Can I stay?" Cas whispers.

"Yeah, of course," Dean says, replying just as quietly. 

"But can I always stay?" Cas asks. 

Dean hesitates, then closes those ten inches to kiss Cas, quick and light. He nods. 

A slow smile spreads across Cas's face. 

Dean falls asleep to the contentedness of that.

\---------------- 

It's even worth the humiliating picture and Sam's relentless teasing (out of earshot of Cas) the next morning, to wake up entangled with his angel.

\---------------- 

Cas comes to sleep in Dean's bed twice after that, with no words or explanation. Instead, he simply calls Dean's cell, asks for their location and then pops into the motel room. Sam doesn't even say anything when Cas crawls into bed with his slacks and undershirt on, curling up to Dean while Sam is the same room. He thinks Cas feels safe, having Sam close by. Whether or not Cas is actually sleeping is debatable. He's definitely awake by the time Dean drops off, even if he's breathing as evenly as a sleeping person does. That steady rhythm is surprisingly snooze-worthy and Dean sleeps better than he has in months. He even manages not to get hard, though that takes a few disgusting mental rounds with the grossest monsters Dean's hunted.

The third night, an elbow to his sternum makes Dean wake up with a snort. Darkness greets him when he opens his eyes, save for the faint red glow of the vacancy sign filtering through the window. The bed creaks as Cas moves.

"Sorry," Cas whispers, stilling.

"S'okay," Dean mutters, rubbing his eyes. "You need somethin'?"

Cas captures Dean's stray hand in his own. "I assume having sex with your brother in the room is inappropriate?" he murmurs. 

Dean freezes, his hand on his eye. "I'd only do it if you want a lecture on boundaries. And possibly girly fleeing."

Cas hums. Half of his body is pressed against Dean's, his arm under Dean's pillow and one leg over Dean's ankle.

Dean continues awkwardly, keeping his voice low enough not to wake Sam, "But we should, you know, not run into this without talking. You don't really say anything about this." Dean may have possibly met someone worse at talking than he is, and that's saying something. Though he suspects it less deliberate on Cas's part and more of an inability. 

"It's not that I don't want to speak of it, but I don't know what to say," Cas offers.

Worries itch at Dean's mind. He shifts his head on his pillow so he can look Cas in the eye. "Was there, I don't know, anything you didn't like? Anything I did that hurt you?"

"You didn't hurt me," Cas says, then falls silent. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean finally asks. 

Cas nods slightly.

"You said that being the bottom was a sign of submission, of being – feminine. Where did you get that? I mean, you had to look up some, er, terms." Dean doesn't want to say 'slut' and 'whore' when it's clearly a charged subject. "And that's a pretty specific cultural thing. What Americans think about two guys having sex."

Cas squints, looking past Dean. "Zachariah told me, after that first night when you only kissed me, that you would like the idea of an angel submitting to you. He made some coarse references to being penetrated during the conversation. And mentioned your preference for women, who as I understand it typically take that role. His comments towards such actions were demeaning, but his orders were clear. Though I must confess I don’t know how Zachariah came by such knowledge."

Fuck, and Dean did like that. "Is that why you told me you liked me inside you?"

"No. I was telling the truth." Cas's mouth twists. "Then, I was." He exhales. "I did like it. I do like it, and would like to have sex with you that way again."

"And, uh, the submitting thing?" 

Even in the dark, Dean can tell Cas is blushing. "That, too. Yes." He smiles crookedly. "I like you giving me orders, unlike my former superiors."

Something deep within Dean's chest loosens. 

But he has other questions, other missing pieces. He stares at Cas in the dark, seeing his dark blue eyes, the sharp line of his jaw. "But the other angels …? How much do they know? Why do they even know anything about it?" 

A puff of air is the sign of Cas sighing. "Zachariah had me keep him updated. It's possible he shared details of those reports with others." Cas's voice drops even lower. "Sometimes he would ask specifics, even though I could tell it disgusted him. That I disgusted him, because I enjoyed it." His mouth twists bitterly, barely visible. "My success appalled him."

"Cas – I'm sorry. I'm really going to gank that dick."

Cas nods and then shakes his head. "It's all right. I think you're right about my siblings. What do they know?" He leans closer, whispers, "Dean. You are worth it, even with the pain."

That hurts, and Dean gives a shuddering breath. Is anything in their lives untainted by some amount of pain? So he shoves it down, balances it against the joys of being with Cas – and of Cas being with him. He does believe Cas, a reluctant kind of trust. He smiles as best he can, and it even turns mostly genuine when Cas returns it, soft and sincere. "Are you sure?" Dean has to ask.

"I am not fine, Dean. But I am getting there, and I desire to walk that path with you, not alone."

Dean nods. Takes that in. Accepts it. Then asks, "What about my first question? Was there anything you didn't like?" 

Cas frowns.

Dean waits, watching as expressions he doesn't entirely understand flit across Cas's face. They're both speaking really quietly, and Dean can still hear Sam snoring.

"I like – I liked when you told me how much you enjoyed it. When you made sure I was aroused first. Which was most of the time," Cas adds hastily. He licks his lips. "I liked you sucking me, with your fingers in me. And I liked being on top – riding you, you called it. I liked how you would touch me all over, not just my genitals, but my hands, and my face. I liked how you only wanted me if I wanted you. I like how my pleasure aroused you." He pauses. "I like how you would look at me, afterwards. Like how you're looking at me right now. I don't know entirely what it means, but I like it." 

Dean places a hand on Cas's cheek, his thumb on Cas's lower lip. "When I look at you like this?" 

Cas's, "Yes," is warm on Dean's skin.

And Dean loves him so fucking much right now, like it wants to burst out of him. But the words die in this throat. So instead he lurches forward, nearly falling onto Cas as he kisses his him hard, his hand sliding past Cas's stomach to the bed, holding himself up. Cas moans into his mouth, turning the kiss into an open one, Dean's tongue in his mouth. Dean's cock, now half hard, is pressed into the sheets right next to Cas's hip, and that makes Dean stop. "Can I, can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Cas says, taking Dean's head in both hands and pulling him in. 

Dean pulls away again to whisper into Cas's ear, "Can I touch you?" 

Cas responds by bucking his hips up, squirming around so Dean can feel the hard line of Cas's cock against his thigh. It's messy and uncoordinated and entirely hot. Dean is holding himself by his hands, so he pushes his thigh against Cas so Cas has something to properly rub against. Dean lets himself fall to one elbow, and presses his other hand against the zipper of Cas's slacks. By the shape and feel, Cas is completely hard. He moans at Dean's touch, really loudly.

"Shh," Dean whispers into his ear. "Sam's still in here. Do you really want that boundary talk?"

"I don't care," Cas growls in return. 

Dean carefully presses a hand over Cas's mouth, very gently. "Sam would kill me."

Cas turns his head to speak. "No, he wouldn't."

"Metaphorically. Analogically. Whatever." 

Cas sighs, but he does it quietly. He runs his hands up Dean's shirt, his bare hands on Dean's bare skin. Dean's been sleeping in some sweats over his boxers, with a white tee, out of respect for the fact that Cas has been sharing his bed. Cas yanks at them now, first at that shirt – until Dean pulls it off his head – then his pants, trying to grab his boxers at the same time. Dean pushes them down to his knees, then hesitantly touches Cas, who is still dressed. He feels like a horny teenager, trying not to wake up Dad.

Panting lightly, Cas pulls down his slacks and boxers, the smooth material sliding against Dean's skin. His cock is silky against Dean's belly, and Cas grabs both of them in a loose handhold, stroking with light pressure. Dean is already on the edge of coming, because Cas is unbelievable like this, gasping into Dean's mouth, thrusting against his stomach, tip of his cock wet with pre-come. 

He pulls Cas up to him, knocking Cas's hand out of the way so there's not even an inch between them. They move against each other, pushing away with the power of their thrusts, pulling closer with their hands, Cas's hand on Dean's ass, Dean's hand on Cas's back. 

A thrust hits Dean just right and he comes, slick against Cas's stomach. Cas follows him a second later, letting out another too-loud moan.

Dean kisses him almost frantically, until he's spent and just lies there, panting. Cas kisses his collarbone, bites at his shoulder. 

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

"Get a room tomorrow," Sam says. "For my sanity." 

Dean laughs and then cuts it off. "Sorry, dude. Going to sleep, I swear."

Dean's tee is used to clean up the mess. They were so close when they came that none of it even got on the sheets, just on their skin. They both pull up their boxers to sleep, then curl up with each other. Dean feels sleep coming, body loose and relaxed in the way that only comes after really good sex. He's got that pleasant buzz instead of actual thoughts, and Cas's steady breathing to count.

Just as he's about to drop off, Cas murmurs, really low, into Dean's ear, "When you sucked me after I came, I didn't like that. That drove this body a little crazy."

Dean stifles a laughs, arm around Cas's shoulders. He whispers, "Overstimulation. And noted."

\---------------- 

Sam asks for two rooms, but adjoining ones, at least. Apparently he's not worried about the bed thumping against the wall. That or the safety concerns. Dean and Sam always shared a room for two reasons, and safety was first, money second. Even scamming and hustling didn't always easily pay the bills, and there were always periods where they would have to carefully watch their spending – make sure their ammo got priority. Cas hasn't been able to stay the night in a few days, though, so the second room has gone unused thus far.

They're on a simple salt and burn, on their way to another, probably more dangerous hunt that they haven't figured out yet. The cemetery is just outside of town and has its own road, so for once they don't have to rush through the back-breaking work of digging up a grave. Just have to get it done by sunrise. The moon provides ample light along with a durable flashlight that's seen better days, and sometimes flickers.

Sam leans on his shovel, watching Dean take his turn digging. He suddenly asks, "You sure Cas is doing okay? That he's ready?" 

"Cas is always ready to kick ass," Dean replies distractedly.

"That's not what I'm referring to." 

Dean heaves the dirt over his shoulder, then looks up at his brother. He shifts uncomfortably and shrugs. It's probably a little late to ask that question, with what happened a few nights ago. But then it's never too late to stop actively hurting someone, he supposes. "Yeah." Dean pauses. The flashlight flickers. "Yeah, I think so. Why? He say anything to you?"

"A little, yeah."

Another clump of dirt flies. Dean nods. "You talk to him? A lot?"

Sam thinks a moment. "Not a lot. But he comes to me sometimes, just to talk things over with someone. Besides you." Sam gives a half-apologetic shrug. 

"Probably a good thing. Even if you are like a girl sometimes." Dean pauses. Embarrassment is twisting around with shame and an automatic sense of invasion, but Dean wants to know things more than he wants to flee from the conversation. "He talk to you about me?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, he does."

"Does he think he's, you know, ready?" Dean asks.

Sam nods. "More than ready." Sam makes a 'Dean, you gross me out' face. "Which is really more than what I wanted to know."

Dean snorts and keeps digging. The flashlight keeps flickering, and Dean resolves again for the tenth time to replace it. Yeah, it takes a licking and keeps on ticking, but the stupid flickering gives him a headache. Bad enough he has to dig out most of the grave himself because Sam was as a graceful as a lumbering Sasquatch and fell on his wrist (who does that?). 

"Hey, Dean."

"What, Sammy?"

"I'm glad you got some happiness out of this whole mess."

Dean gives Sam his best insouciant grin. "Yeah, the world is ending, but Dean Winchester is getting laid?"

Sam just sighs at him. "Dean, you can get laid anytime you want." (Dean snorts, because it's about time Sam admitted that.) "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Dean looks down and tosses the shovel from hand to hand. The flashlight flickers again, but he doesn't care, smiling softer now. "Yeah. Bitch." 

"Jerk."

\---------------- 

Helping people has always put Dean back on track. Given him purpose.

Yeah, Dean was part of the problem in Cas's case, but then he usually is. Because Dean fucks up, and sometimes he fucks up royally. He makes stupid decisions and even stupider mistakes. Cas has borne some of the brunt of those mistakes, losing his family and only getting Sam and Dean back in the process. And Dean has seen where Cas goes when Dean fails him. He falls bitter and hopeless. He turns to sex and drugs, a mess of stimulation and numbness. He follows Dean even if it leads to his death.

A kernel grows in Dean's head, and the root of it is that too much of Cas's happiness is determined by Dean. 

It's a responsibility Dean didn't ask for, and yet one he's strangely glad to have. Like how he's always held Sam's life in his hands, by his actions, by what he does for his brother. And now he has Cas, too. Dad didn't place Cas in his arms, though. Dean did that by himself. Or maybe Cas put himself there. Dean wishes that Sam and Cas didn’t need anyone, that the world was safe and happy for them, but it's not – and as long as that's true, Dean's glad he can make a difference.

Dean's not going to fail this time. Not in the ways that it matters. He's going to be there for Cas.

He promises in his head, on his heart.

\---------------- 

The next time Cas calls, he does so in the middle of the day and asks where they're stopping for the night. Dean is driving, so it requires some finagling to figure that out, since Sam is passed out in the passenger seat. That kid sleeps way too much, it's making Dean wonder if he's going to go through yet another growth spurt and grow another foot. Then he'd _really_ be a Sasquatch.

"I'll give you a call when we get there, okay Cas?" Dean says. 

"Yes," Cas says and hangs up.

He still hasn't quite gotten the social stuff when it comes to cell phones. Dean puts the cell back into a pocket, half smiling. 

Three hours later, he pulls into a small motel just off the side of the highway. It's outside of the nearby town, making it cheaper by at least ten dollars. That stuff adds up over time. 

Especially with two motel rooms. Sam gives Dean a smirk when Dean hands over his room key. "Should I be using headphones tonight, Dean?" Sam asks.

Dean thwacks the back of his head and doesn't answer. He texts the info to Cas.

Rather than tense himself up by waiting, Dean does a thorough inventory and cleaning of their weapons. (Of course Sam has his own set for self-protection, but there are a fair number they share.) Dismantling and oiling guns is soothing, something Dean's done since he was ten years old. His fingers go through the motions without Dean having to think very much, but it still requires enough attention that Dean can't ignore what he's doing and let his mind completely wander. 

He's moved onto the knives when Cas pops in with a rush of wind. 

Dean looks up and smiles. "Hey." 

Cas walks over to the table Dean's sitting at and trails his fingers over the neatly arranged guns. "You care for your weapons well."

"I care for yours, too," Dean says with a smirk. 

Cas tilts his head, looking confused. "My blade requires no upkeep." 

Dean shakes his head, wipes down the knife he's holding and places it back in its sheathe, and then gets up. He takes the two steps to be right in Cas's space and pauses. "Can I –"

"Yes." Cas looks him in the eyes. 

"Cas, you gotta know I have to ask –" 

Shaking his head, Cas places a finger on Dean's lips, quieting him. "I don't mind you asking. But I want you to trust me to say no if you do something I don't like. I don't want you to be afraid of breaking me. I want to reclaim this," he says. "For both of us."

A nervous jitter works its way up Dean's body. He swallows and then nods. Cas is being very clear about his desires. "All right. But you have to talk to me. Tell me everything." 

Cas nods. Half smiles and adds, "I will." His voice is low when he asks, "Will you undress me?" 

Mouth dry, Dean helps Cas shrug off the trenchcoat. He smoothes his hands along Cas's sides, up his shoulders to take off the suit coat under that. Dean loosens Cas's tie, undoes the knot, watching Cas's pulse at his neck race when Dean's hands brush against his skin. Cas's eyes are dark, pupils wide with arousal, and Dean feels his pants get tight from the sight. When Dean starts unbuttoning the dress shirt, Cas seems to lose control – he lurches forward to capture Dean in a kiss.

It reminds Dean of their first kisses, in a weird way, when Cas only knew enough to copy whatever Dean did. Cas was never a clumsy kisser, his lips as precise as the rest of him, even if he only had one point of experience. But now there's a confidence behind it and it's not just imitation, it's Cas taking what he wants in the way he wants it – tugging on Dean's lip to get his reaction, biting lightly because the pain makes Dean moan. His hands are on Dean's waist, rubbing a slice of skin between his t-shirt and jeans.

"I like touching you," Cas whispers into his mouth. 

Dean fumbles with Cas's shirt buttons and ultimately has to break the kiss to pay attention. The undershirt he pulls off in one smooth move. Then he kneels in front of Cas, very deliberately getting to his knees and pulls down Cas's zipper. 

Cas gives him a half-thrust and begins to babble, "Are you going to suck me? I think I would like you doing that on your knees –"

"Fuck, Cas," and it's not a complaint. He's a lot quicker getting Cas's pants down around his ankles, and takes Cas's fully hard cock into his mouth. He savors the sensation of the head slipping past his tongue as he deep-throats Cas – it's not something he can do for more than a minute, but Cas groans loud and long. He doesn't thrust into Dean's mouth, probably remembering how Dean held him back that first time, his hips quivering. Dean pulls back to tongue the slit, tasting the salty flavor there, and then sucks hard on the head. 

Dean pulls off with a pop in order to wet two fingers, looking up at Cas. Cas pets his head, runs his fingers through Dean's hair with blunt nails. One of Dean's fingers presses against Cas's entrance, rubbing at the sensitive skin there, but he doesn't push in. 

"Yes," Cas snaps. He does this odd half motion like he's trying to push down on Dean's fingers from a standing position. He gasps a few times, then continues, "Please, oh please, I want you to, you don't have to start with just one I like how it feels, _Dean_."

Dean pushes in one finger, but does it harder than he normally would, immediately going searching for Cas's prostrate. Cas keens, putting his hands on Dean's shoulders to hold himself up. His face is flushed and his eyes dark with arousal. Dean sucks in Cas's cock again, just to hear the sound Cas makes. He pulls off to ask, "You like that?" 

"You know I do, fuck me, would you fuck me now?" Cas asks, a blur of words. Dean nods and before he can even say anything, Cas says, "I'll get the lube." He twitches a bit as Dean pulls out his finger, then is digging through Dean's duffel. 

Dean stays kneeling there for a second, grinning to himself. Then he turns to watch Cas sit up on the bed, reaching behind himself to get ready. "Stop," Dean orders, tone light. Testing. 

Cas freezes. Waits. But his expression is an eager calm.

"I want to," Dean says, getting up and joining Cas on the bed. He holds out his hand, and without hesitation Cas places the lube in his hand, the cap already off. "On your back."

Cas shudders before obeying. "Thank you," he says, and Dean knows he's not talking about the lube, but he's the one who feels grateful. Cas brings up his knees, exposing his hole completely. It glistens slightly from the stretching Cas already did, but Dean still gets his fingers well-covered before pressing in with three fingers. Cas rolls his head back and pushes down on Dean's fingers, one long sinuous movement. "Oh, Dean," he breathes. 

Dean is as hard as a rock, and he has to press a hand at the base of his cock just in case. He finger-fucks Cas for another minute, but while Cas is tight – Cas is always tight – there's no pain in how Cas frantically fucks himself on Dean, literally moaning for his cock. So Dean pulls out, wipes his hand on the sheets, then puts one hand under Cas's knee to push his legs open farther.

Cas shivers, then focuses on Dean. He wraps his legs around Dean's waist. "Hold me down," he asks.

Hesitating for only a second, Dean presses his hands to just above Cas's wrists, knowing the wrist is a rather delicate place to actually hold someone down without hurting them. He presses down with most of his weight. "Show me you can break my hold," he commands. 

Cas blinks at him for a second, then easily as lifting a feather he pushes back, knocking Dean back on his heels. There wasn't even a struggle to bear his weight, it was that quick and easy. Dean's only grasping onto his forearms now, touching instead of restraining. And Dean knows from actual fights that the ability to do that requires a lot of strength, when your opponent is a superior position.

"Good?" Cas asks. 

Dean nods slowly, then returns the pressure of before. Cas gives in to it, actual willing submission. It makes his throat tight and his eyes are wet, not crying, but there's an indescribable feeling working through Dean. He thrusts against Cas's ass, not really trying to get in, just stroking the head of his dick against Cas's waiting hole. Cas wriggles, trying to position himself properly to take it, but his arms never move from where Dean holds him still. Dean leans over to kiss where he holds Cas, each hand. Cas's hands open from fists, loose and relaxed.

"Please," Cas says. No _Do I please you_ , but _Please._

"Stay still," Dean says and when Cas obeys, he presses in. His hands tighten on Cas when the head of his cock pops past the tight muscle, the tight, surrounding heat absolutely amazing. Then he thrusts, hard, sinking in until his balls slap against Cas. 

"Oh, oh," Cas says. "I like you in me. Feel you stretching me wide." He does a half-shudder, half-shiver. He's looking at Dean, eyes glazed with pleasure. Dean thinks they've reached the portion where Cas's brain shuts down, when he's not thinking about anything other than sex, only feeling. He wonders how much of Cas's enjoyment of sex has to do with this, how much Cas likes to simply stop. Be in the present. But still, even as Cas loses himself to the pleasure, he's there and communicating with Dean.

"Good," Dean says, fucking him slower. He kisses Cas's knee gently. "You can like it. You can love it, if you want."

Cas nods, nods again, "I do."

Dean keeps up the steady pace of slow thrusts, hard enough to slap his balls against Cas's skin, hard enough to hear the wet sound of their bodies meeting, hard soft enough that Cas's cock slaps against his belly – but soft enough he doesn't come. Not just from this. Dean hits his prostrate every third or so stroke, he can tell from the way Cas tightens on his cock. Cas keeps his hands level with his head, completely letting Dean prevent him from moving, even though Dean can tell he wants to use his hands to brace himself, to push back.

"I like it when you fuck me hard, when I can feel all of you pressed against my skin, Dean I like it," Cas babbles. 

Dean puts a hand under Cas's thigh, pushing it up to fold Cas in half so he can lean in, close enough to kiss him – a gentle meeting of mouths. "I love fucking you," Dean says deliberately. And like the words opened a dam locked down for a decade, the rest comes tumbling out in a rapid whisper. "I love being with you, I love you."

Cas makes a soft noise of something not quite pain, blue eyes glistening. He breaks Dean's hold on his arms, quickly enough that Dean has to scramble to hold himself up, and then Cas uses that same strength to bring Dean in even further, Cas's cock pressed against Dean's chest. "I love you," Cas says quietly, searching Dean's face, hand stroking along Dean's cheekbone, up to his temple and into his hair, stopping at the nape of Dean's neck. Then lets his arms go limp again, submitting.

Dean returns to his restraining hold, tight enough it'd bruise a human, and then begins to fuck Cas in earnest. Dean is an excellent shape, a survival skill for any hunter, and so he can thrust hard and maintain a steady pace. Dean is chasing his own pleasure while watching the same joy cross Cas's face, as he pants and moans to every stroke. 

Cas's ass clenches down on Dean's cock repeatedly, like Cas's body is urging Dean along with his words, breathless pleas and praises, "Please, oh please, I like that, you feel so good –" His eyes flutter shut and he stops speaking, then he seems to force himself to look at Dean again and continue, "I like it, I love it," but he says it like he's just now realized that's okay. That he can feel. 

The lights in the hotel room flicker. The lamp next to the bed buzzes, but Dean's so lost he can barely notice. Then Cas comes, his body locking down, clenching up as his cock spurts come, white strips falling across his chest. 

A light somewhere goes out with a crack, and like that was a signal Dean follows Cas. His balls draw up and he comes into Cas's body, balls to Cas's ass. Even as he falls forward, the tension in his body cut like a piece of string, he pushes in again, thrusting lightly until the pleasure turns painful. He can feel his own come slicking the way. 

Cas keeps his legs around Dean's waist, holding Dean even as Dean holds Cas.

Dean leans in, touches his forehead to Cas's. "I'm going to slip out," he murmurs. 

With a sigh, Cas drops his legs and Dean's cock leaves Cas's body with a small amount of come. The sensation makes Dean groan, and the sight of it – his come leaking out of Cas's body – is enough to make him repeat the sound. Dean kisses the inside of Cas's thigh, rubbing the come into Cas's skin. Then he runs a finger through the mess on Cas's chest and licks it, salty on his tongue.

Cas smiles at him, that familiar slight curve of his lips, one side lifting up more than the other. 

Then when Dean gets up to get a wet washcloth, Cas stretches. First his arms, over his head, then he arches his back and then points his toes, before relaxing back into the sheets. Cas is practically purring. He's definitely a cat, with sharp claws – mysterious and unknowable, but still coming back to you. 

Dean cleans himself up, then Cas. When he lies down next to Cas, the angel works himself into Dean's arms without any hesitation, without asking. Certain of his welcome. 

Tomorrow, they'll have to go back to trying to stop the end of the world. To trying to stop Lucifer, while running from the angels that want Dean and Sam to become vessels. Cas will return to his search for God. Who knows where they'll end up, if they'll fail. 

But there's a new certainty Dean can add to the fact that he will never give up on his brother, never stop protecting him. Dean will ever give up on Cas, and never stop protecting him. Where that will lead? Dean doesn't know.

But in this moment, Dean Winchester is happy. "I lo –"

And Cas kisses him silent. "And I you."


End file.
